Capital Games
by EchoDeltaNine
Summary: 24 lucky children of Panem are selected to compete in a special competition in the Capital.  No one would ever have guessed the true intentions of these games, that, truely, it would be a fight to the death.
1. Prologue

The twelve districts of Panem were still recovering from the disaster of the war. District 13 had been completely destroyed by the power that called itself the Capital. The Capital's new law enforcement soldiers, known as Peacekeepers, infiltrated through the districts. They were mean, always looking down their noses at the citizens, brandishing their shiny guns. Weveral people had been killed within the first several days of their occupancy; after the deaths and multiple beatings, people only coward when the crisp white uniforms came in to view.

Several weeks after the cruel treatments began, a special announcement was sent to all of the districts. The Capital's leader, the president of Panem, Henrik Fox, appeared on television screens nationwide.

"Hello, citizens of Panem," he began, smiling winningly at the camera. "For those of you who don't know me, my name is Henrik Fox, and I am the new President of Panem. It has come to my attention that my law enforcers have been less than pleasant to you. For that, I give my sincerest apologies, and as repentance, I would like to invite some of you to the Capital to participate in a new, annual event. In the next several weeks, I will be coming to each district and two children, a boy and a girl, from each district between the ages of twelve and eighteen, will be chosen to participate in this special event. And, to increase some opportunities that would be otherwise lost for the older children, thirteen year olds may enter their name twice, fourteen year olds three times, and so on. I hope that this will be a fair representation of the Captial's, and my own, feelings of the districts and what they rightfully deserve for fighting bravely but ultimately losing the war. Thank you." And then a strange anthem played as a demanding seal dominated the screen, and then they all went black.

Confusion followed. Many adults wondered what the real purpose of the Capital's "opportunity" was. The Capital had left all the districts to the mercy of their nasty Peacekeepers, and suddenly they were apologizing? Many were wary of the upcoming selections. Some believed it to be a true honor to be selected and they prayed it would be their child to be chosen.

After two weeks, the Capital had selected their twenty-four tributes, as they were called. District 1 had supplied Diamond Kortz and Shimmer Blacke. District two had shipped off Canto Strike and Mercy Grates. Electra Zen and Shock Anderson from District 3; Haven Kingston and Echo Delta from District 4; Pepper Currant and Cider Burche from District 5; Reese Proctor and Julius Stevens from District 6; Aralia and Flitch Oakame from District 7; Coir Jacques and Kevlar Behnke from District 8; Carrick Penton and Mhikele Maguire from District 9; Syrah Armagnac and Madeira Luccella from District 10; Piper Swift and Durum Wheton from District 11; and Honey Ginseng and Sorrell Dosa from District 12.

On the day that each pair of children were chosen, a great celebration took place. Henrik Fox traveled to every district and drew the names himself, excitedly shaking the hands of those picked. Even though Fox represented all the things that had made the Districts rebel in the first place, his easy manner convinced many of the wary that their children would truly have an important opportunity if they were chosen. The Districts eagerly sent the selected children on their way—what better for their children than to live for a couple of weeks in the wealthy city: the Capital?

Over all, two aged twelve, one aged thirteen, four aged fourteen, four aged fifteen, two aged sixteen, six aged seventeen, and five aged eighteen. For many of the tributes, the Capital was the first place that they had ever seen with a wealth that far surpassed the citizens need. As the long train pulled into the train station, the children stared out the windows in awe.

They were assaulted by camera crews as soon as the twenty-four tributes stepped onto the platform. Each and every one of them smiled wide and bright. Questions imploring their thoughts were fired as they crossed to the gilded doors of the Welcoming Office. Timid answers were given and they all flushed with all of the flattery.

A huge banquet hall housed the twenty-four tributes and they all ate their fill of delicious Capital delicacies, gorging themselves on the chocolate and fruit desserts.

Afterward they were all sent to a floor pertaining to their districts, and each settled into their own room, satisfied and positive that each would be the one to win. The next day would be training and then press conferences, and then the games. No one could have known that in only a few simple days, a blood bath would begin and only one winner would emerge—but only because the others would be dead.

* * *

Okay, this is my first Hunger Games fanfiction, and I like the idea of readers voting for tributes. So, I know there isn't a lot to go off of, but if you think that you'd read this fanfiction, please let me know which tribute you would vote for. Think of yourselves as Sponsors. And as the whole publicity thing goes up, you, ultimately, will be the ones to decide their fate. Let me know what you think. Thanks,

Steph


	2. The Capital

The Capital was far greater than I imagined. It was huge! And the colors were just fantastic. Buildings jutted into the blue sky, reflecting the sun. And the people. Oh, the people were just the epitome of letting loose. People had green and pink and teal hair, sometimes even with a matching skin color. Gold and silver tattoos spiraled up the arms and along the faces of the Capital citizens. It made them all quite festive.

I hated it.

As awesome as it was, it was way too far away from the ocean. The air was too dry; it wasn't saturated enough and it didn't smell right. The breeze was too light.

Not to mention the Capital escorts kept us cooped up in the Training Center. After the initial entrance into the banquet hall and the first dinner we had here, all of us were herded into elevators and up to corresponding floors pertaining to our districts. I was herded into one elevator with the girl tribute from District 3 and the tributes from District 5. The District 5 tributes chatted softly and I stared at the number moving at the top of the door.

"I'm Electra." I startle, looking at the District 3 girl. She smiles softly, but there's something I don't like about her stare. It's like she might eat me alive.

"Echo," I say.

"Are you excited for the games? I've heard that the Capital promised that the winner would never have to work another day in their lives!" I nod, wondering where she had heard that, and wondering, again, how such a privileged character would care if she had to work or not, because she obviously didn't work in the first place.

"That's cool," I say coolly. I wasn't here to make friends, and I actually liked working.

"Yeah, I thought so too," she says softly. "My parents might just respect me once in awhile, if they weren't so busy being themselves." The door opens at her floor and she smiles at me again, only it isn't the same predatory one she gave me a few seconds before. "See you in training tomorrow," she says and exits. I'm kind of blown away. I guess I shouldn't make assumptions.

The door closes and we are at my floor. I accidentally brush the District 5 girl as I pass and turn to apologize, except it kind of catches in my throat. Her eyes, a deep shade of green, are depthless, and she has the most gorgeous shade of red hair; she's lean and tall. Long legs. And already I was going against the grain because I had decided to not make friends. With this girl, maybe, I needed to make an exception.

"I'm sorry," I say, managing a charming smile. She blushes. It adds a beautiful tinge to her pale cheeks.

"It's okay, Echo," she says. "I was in your way."

"No, it's my fault." She smiles shyly. As I turn to leave, I think that I have to know her name. I turn around and manage "I didn't catch—" but the doors are closing.

"Pepper," she says before the door is closed and she's gone. I smile to myself and enter the apartment that I will be sharing with the other tribute from District 4.

She's lounging on a couch as I enter a living center. She's dark-haired with caramel-colored eyes, a small figure. Not particularly pretty, to me anyway.

"Hey, Echo," she says, tipping her head back. "Isn't it just fantastic here? I've never been in such luxury in my entire life!"

"It's okay," I say, sitting in a recliner. "I don't like being so far from the ocean."

"Yeah. I kind of know what you mean. I miss the brine on my lips," she says, touching them softly.

"And I'm not too excited about these games," I continue quietly. "There is something that isn't quite right. I don't really get it. I keep trying to find their angle, but I haven't gotten it figured out yet."

"Did you ever think they might really be giving us a great opportunity? Some people at home would have _died_ to get the chance to come here."

"Yeah, well, I'd die just to go back home. I like it in District 4. There isn't anything that appeals to me here, and it makes me restless to be trapped in this building. I like being outside, in the water. Besides, the people here are so shallow."

"Maybe. I think they're nice." I roll my eyes. She had always been a defender of people.

"Hello, dearies!" I turn quickly to see our handler trotting into the room. "Sorry I'm late, sorry I'm late!" Immediately she annoys me. Her skin is a normal color, but her hair is bubblegum pink and her voice grates on my ears like a touch to raw nerves. "My name is Delia," she says, dumping a folder of papers onto the table. She turns to us. "And you must be Echo and Haven," she continues, reaching to shake our hands. I exchange a look with Haven as I shake Delia's hand. Her skin is smooth and cool. I don't like it. All hands should be hard and calloused.

"And how are you liking the Capital so far?" She asks, bustling back to the table. She obviously isn't truly interested as Haven and I mumble answers and she replies, "good, good." Again she turns to us, scanning an orange piece of paper. "Now, tomorrow you begin training. Be sure to be up early and you want to have a hearty breakfast."

"What exactly are we training for," I ask.

"Oh, the rules will be told tomorrow down at the training center."

"That doesn't really answer my question," I reply, irritated.

"You will be training for the Games, silly," her own irritation is showing in her voice.

"No one's told us what these games are even really about," Haven jumps to my rescue.

"That will all be explained to you also. Later. As I was saying, tomorrow you start training early in the morning. And in the afternoon, you will all be presented to the Capital. Your prep teams will be meeting with you just after lunch and then your debuts will be made just before dinner." She gives a winning smile. "But for now, off to bed! Chop chop! You have a big day tomorrow!"

Haven and I rise and retreat to our rooms as Delia turns back to the table and mutters to herself.

"Well, she's a winner," Haven says under her breath. I laugh softly.

"Mmhmm. Can't wait for tomorrow!" I say in my best falsetto, peppy voice. Haven laughs. I've known her for a long time, though not well. We have the same circle of friends. Maybe she won't be so bad either.

I sigh, realizing that my "not making friends" plan isn't working.

"Goodnight, Echo," Haven says quietly as we reach her door. I smile softly.

"Goodnight, Haven." And then she's closed the door, and I'm retreating to my own room.

The bed is huge. Silk sheets and a sea-blue down comforter. Maybe I could get used to the Capital after all.

I sigh again. _I guess I really need to make up my mind_, I think, sinking down onto the bed. It's so soft and as I lay back, the silk and down swallow me like the ocean. It's relaxing and soon I am asleep.

* * *

So, I realize that this isn't the most exciting chapter, but I promise that the next one will be much better.

And, in case you were interested, I'm tired of my penname and I am changing it to EchoDeltaNine


	3. Guidelines

It is still dark outside when I wake up. The clock read 3:00, though my internal clock indicates that it is actually 5:00. It takes awhile for it to occur to me that there was a time change between District 4 and the Capital. I groan loudly; it would only be that much more difficult to deal with being in the Capital.

Knowing that I couldn't have fallen back to sleep if I tried, I pull myself out of bed and stumble through the dark into the bathroom. The light burns my eyes.

After they adjust, I study myself in the mirror. I guess you could use one of those ancient clichés on me; before Panem, there used to be a huge land they called North America, and there used to be people called "movie stars." They were kind of sickening, really: pigheaded and slobs. But they used "tall, dark, and handsome" a lot to describe some of the people they called actors. I'm not an actor, but I am tall, and dark, and I guess you could say I'm handsome.

I am approximately five foot eight. I'm taller than my dad, but shorter than my older brother, Jareth. I've got my dad's dark blue eyes and my mom's bone structure. I'm muscular and tan.

Yeah. You could say I'm handsome.

I run my hand through my hair, still knotted with salt. It's black, like a raven's—like my mother's. It makes me miss her, makes me miss the sea. I'm almost reluctant to shower because it would mean washing away the remnants of home.

But I do it anyway. A massive bathtub sits in an indent in the wall, except there isn't a knob or handle to turn the water on. It puzzles and irritates me. Can't they do _anything_ simple in the Capital?

And then I notice the television screen in the wall outside the shower. It has a serene, blue background with white writing:

**Touch Here to  
Choose Water Temperature.**

I sigh. _Great_….

Reluctantly I touch the screen and about a hundred other choices spring to the screen. _No, of course things can't be simple_.

It takes me twenty minutes to finally get the water at a toasty 105 degrees and keep the hundreds of soaps and scents from spewing from their respective faucets.

I'm so angry that I rip off my clothes and throw the one token I was allowed to bring on the counter. The sound it makes slapping on the ceramic makes me wince and I fear I have broken it, but it's fine.

I consider my token as I ease myself under the jet stream of steaming water. It's an ancient heirloom, passed down from hundreds of years before Panem. It's called a piece of eight. It's pure silver, with runes scratched delicately into its face. It has the number 1798 boldly surrounded by an elaborate sail boat. I don't know what the number means, but I know that the coin is one of the most precious items my family owns.

It's my good luck charm, really. I don't go anywhere without it. It's a gorgeous piece—a great interest to the ladies, and it's proved its usefulness. I've been beaten by waves, captured by the undertow, stolen by wicked storms. I've been attacked by sharks, and my ship has been struck by lightning, and I was stranded for a week on an old sandbar. You'd think I would have died by now, but I swear, my lucky coin has kept me no worse for wear.

After my shower, I emerge smelling of a synthetic sea breeze. It almost makes me sick, but I grit my teeth and bear it.

Today's outfit is simple and more my style. Black breeches, stretchy and fitted, but not too tight, and a bright yellow tunic. It looks good on me, highlighting my tan and blue eyes, showing off the thick ropes of my muscles.

I dress quickly, brush my teeth, and then wait…

…and wait…

…and wait…

Finally I can't take it anymore. I pace the room, draw on a piece of paper, copy the inscription of my coin. I stare out the window, close my eyes, try to sleep…all pointless.

It's 7:00 when I exit out into the living center. There's a dining room off to the left of the sitting area and I enter it, thinking maybe I can get some food.

I'm right, and it's all disposable to me. The table is covered in steaming dishes and I approach slowly, taking in the new scents mixed with some old ones.

No one come in as I sit and try to wait, my mouth watering. I decide that it won't be rude of me to eat because I was the first one up and I was here first.

I load my plate with eggs, a delicious-smelling patty, some strips of bacon, a purple dish with the consistence of potatoes, and my favorite: crab a la crème. It's a luscious, soupy mixture with crab and cream, cilantro, and butter. It isn't often I get to eat such a delicacy. But I can't even make myself savor it. I scarf it down, stuffing as much into my mouth and stomach as possible.

I go for seconds, and then again for thirds, finishing breakfast off with a tall glass of apple cider and a seaweed biscuit. The combination is oddly complimentary, sweet and salty, completely delectable.

"Did you eat the whole town?" I turn to the doorway and Haven is leaning against the wall. "I swear I've never seen anyone eat as much as you just did in one sitting."

I smile sheepishly. "Well, let's see you try and keep yourself from gorging on _free_ Capital food. It's good. You should really try some."

She rolls her eyes and takes her place opposite me. I watch as she fills her plate—definitely with smaller portions than I did. When she notices me watching, her face turns red.

"What?"

"Nothing." I laugh with my most charming smile. "Just, don't pretend to not want to eat as much as you possibly can." Her face turns redder, but she doesn't reply.

We sit in silence for awhile. I pick apart another seaweed biscuit and wash it down with something called hot chocolate.

The clock on the wall reads 9:30.

"My God," I finally burst out. Haven looks up, startled. "You would think that time stood still here!" She laughs softly.

"I know what you mean. I woke up at 4 and I laid in bed for hours."

"It's so frustrating!" I laugh because I'm so annoyed.

"Good morning, dearies!" I inwardly sigh as Delia enters the room. "How did you sleep, my little egrets?" she trills, dancing to the table, giving us a humongous smile.

"Good morning, Delia," Haven says politely. I grunt in agreement.

"Are you two ready? That color is gorgeous on you, son," she gushes over me, pulling the fabric of my tunic, and I give Haven an alarmed look. Instead of sympathy she is snorting into a cup of orange juice, not looking at me.

"Erm, thanks," I manage when Delia has to stop to breathe.

"Well," she says, "let's get going! You have a big day today and training starts in twenty minutes!"

Delia ushers us to the elevator and we descend several floors farther than the lobby. Delia never stops chatter and when she finally tells us goodbye, Haven and I both sigh in relief.

" You would think," Haven says, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "that Delia would have to _breathe_ sometime!"

We laugh softly together, and I realize we are the first ones here. District 12 comes soon after Haven and I settle in a corner. The girl is short with long red hair and darting eyes. The boy is slight but tall. He has black hair and gray eyes. They aren't anything special, those two, I decide.

District 3 comes after 12. Electra sends me the same predatory smile that she had done in the elevator, and it takes everything Haven has not to burst out laughing.

"Oh, she's got her eye on you, Echo," she manages to get out. "Be careful, she looks like she might bite!"

"Shhh!" I shush her, but I don't disagree. "They're coming over this way!"

"Good morning, Echo." Electra purrs it, more than offers a real greeting. "This is Shock." The boy looks like he's been electrocuted. His light blonde hair sticks out at all angles, and his eyes are almost black—all glassy and never-ending.

"Hello," I reply politely. "Haven, this is Electra; Electra, Haven."

"Pleased to meet you," Haven smiles, reaching out a hand. Electra stares at her coldly but shakes hands anyway. They stay for a few moments more and then leave us. I let out my breath in a gust.

"She'll eat you alive, Echo," Haven laughs. "I think she's put a claim on you."

"Well she'll have to do more than bat her eyelashes at me," I say; and then my head is reeling.

"District 5 had made their way out of the elevators accompanied by the tributes from District 8. Pepper is in a hunter green, skin tight uniform. The jumpsuit hugs her curves, accentuating her slim waist, flat stomach, and large breasts. Her muscles are apparent in her legs and arms. Her red hair falls like flames around her face, and her eyes are set and determined. She looks absolutely lethal.

"Echo? Echo are you okay? Hello!" I blink several times and then turn back to Haven.

"Yeah, sorry. What were we talking about?" I'm not expecting her to hit me.

"You are such a hypocrite!" I gape at her and she rolls her eyes. "That girl will break you worse than even Electra!"

"How would you know?" I shoot back at her.

"Because she's a stuck-up b—"

"Hey!" Pepper's voice resounds through theHaven's face is beet red as she and I turn to face Pepper and her team mate.

"Good morning, Pepper," I say, pointedly ignoring Haven and her fury. "This is Haven."

"Hi." Her voice is lovely: liquid and sweet, like water in the sun, or wind chimes in a breeze. Her smile is blinding, and I swear I could get lost in the green of her eyes,. "This is cider." The boy is shy, hiding behind thick brown hair. The very tips are light blonde, like he dipped them in paint. He's younger, only fourteen or fifteen; you can see it in his face—not gaunt but not robust. He doesn't meet my eyes as he mumbles hello, but I notice they are a muddy brown color.

"I wonder what we're training for," Pepper says lightly, playing with a braided string on her wrist. "They haven't told us anything."

"I know," I tell her. She meets my eyes and I can't help but smile as widely as I can. Her responding one nearly makes me melt. "Delia only told us that we will be read the rules this morning, or something."

"I just hope they're fair." Her eyebrows knit together as she scans the growing crowd. "I mean, look at little Madeira. He's only twelve! What kind of competition will be fair to all of us?"

I am about to respond with my theory that the Capital is searching for the next great freak show, but a commanding woman with short gray hair and cold gray eyes is calling us to attention. Her voice is oddly sweet, but it doesn't ease my immediate feeling of hatred that was practically rolling off of her.

"Good morning, tributes of Panem," she begins, scanning us all like we are pieces of meat. "Today you begin training for what we are calling the capital Games. The games will be a test of endurance, strength, agility, accuracy, knowledge, and truly, above all, luck and your will to win." I didn't like anything she was saying. Her tone was cruel but impassive. She made it sound like these competitions would kill us in the end, or else something would seriously break us.

"Over the next two days you will each have the opportunity to learn of all kinds of skills needed to win the Games. There is weaponry, weights, knot tying, plant studies, camping studies, camouflage, and other similar stations. The Games will give you a chance to use each of the skills you will learn during training, so attempt to perfect as many as possible.

"On the day after tomorrow, you will each get a fifteen minute slot with the judges. You will be alone and will be expected to show them the skill that you have proven to be the most advanced in. Each of you will receive a score; the higher the score, the more the judges think you will have a great chance at winning the games. This is no indication, however, that the tribute with the highest score will win." She pauses and I think that I don't like where this is going at all.

"Now, tonight you will be presented to the Capital. Prepping will be a lengthy process, so get what you can get done today, and tomorrow you will have the rest of the day to train as you wish. Good luck to you all." She doesn't sound sincere, and a nasty feeling has embedded itself in my stomach.

I watch her leave. There is something that isn't right about these so-called "Games." I am apprehensive as we enter the training room.

* * *

_A/N I know that I am doing things a little out of order, but it's the first Games and everything, so there are still some kinks to work out in the program. Plus, it's imperative for the Capital to keep making it appear as if the games are safe. Just to let you all know :) Hope for some reviews. If my tenses are off, I appologize. Let me know if it is very noticeable._

_ Steph_


	4. Knives and Mercy

It's a huge gym. The bulk of it is clear, a few pads litter the floor. Around the edges are dozens of stations. Fine weaponry takes up the length of one wall, and other stations span the rest.

Haven and I exchange a look. I can tell that she feels the wrongness of this whole situation, too. A glance at Pepper and a few others indicates that they feel the same way.

But maybe there isn't anything to worry about. So Haven and I travel in a group with Pepper and Cider. We begin at the knot tying station. Haven and I whip through all of the ones that we know in minutes. The instructor is impressed. Pepper and Cider struggle, though Cider picks up some of the more complicated ones fairly quickly.

Next we move to the plant studies station. Here we learn of edible plants; a blue-ish tuber that grows in mud is our primary concern, along with a leafy fern and a brownish pod that holds a chewy bean. The instructor also shows us a yummy-looking purple berry, but warns us that it is extremely poisonous. Another bright yellow plant proves to be poisonous to the touch, causing an angry red rash that burns, but the same fronds of the plant, when smashed to a pulp, clears the rash in minutes and acts as a disinfectant. The instructor also shows us some pretty pink and pristine white flowers that are delicious to eat and have the added benefit of holding a lot of water. I felt, as we were learning about the plants, that this was going to be very important to know.

It quickly becomes apparent that we have a follower. Electra watches us closely, glaring at Pepper and staring hungrily at me. To be honest, she makes me feel uncomfortable.

We make it through the camouflage station before lunch. Pepper has a pretty, leafy pattern on her face, and her eyes are even more prominent. As we walk to where we will be eating lunch, I tell her to steer clear of Electra.

She laughs. "Why?" I feel uncomfortable answering her.

"She seems to think that somehow—erm—or rather…."

"I see the way she looks at you. By the way she glares at me you'd think I'd stolen something."

"I've no idea why she'd think that, but just stay away from her," I warn, striding ahead to catch up with Haven, completely avoiding farther conversation on the subject. But I hear her laugh softly and mutter something like "uh huh, Echo." The tone is not believing. As embarrassing as it is, it pleases me.

Lunch takes place in a windowless banquet room. Haven and I sit with Pepper and Cider. Electra squeezes herself between me and Haven.

"Hey, Electra," I say tightly.

"Hi, Echo. Who're your friends?" She concentrates on her food, stabbing her fork into her bowl of pasta.

"I'm Pepper," Pepper says coolly. "This is Cider. We're from District 5."

"Oh, right, the medicine district. What do you do? It'd be such a bore." I can't help but feel that Electra is digging herself a deep hole. Pepper's eyes are narrowed to slits and all of her muscles have tensed.

"I do much more than you, I can assure you. At least I can help save lives instead of spinning wire." Her attitude is astounding. I can see the fury in her eyes, and I think that I've fallen in love.

"Well you don't have to be a bitch," Electra replies hotly.

"Look in the mirror, sweetheart," Pepper hisses, her hands tightening up on the edges of her tray. I think maybe that she will dump it over Electra, but she doesn't. "Maybe you'll catch sight of a real bitch." And she's on her feet, moving to another table. She smiles at a fellow with blue eyes and a companion to match.

"Well, I'm so glad to be rid of _her_," Electra says, unattractively brushing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

"That wasn't very nice, 'Lectra," Shock says quietly. His hair isn't so out of control now. His cheeks are red and his blonde locks are weighted down with sweat. His voice is quiet and sweet.

"No one asked you," Electra snaps back at him, stabbing at her lunch with her fork again.

"She seems to be all right," Haven says, though I feel it was unwise. After I realize what she has said, I smile gratefully at her.

"I _know_ I didn't ask you, Rason, or Devil, or whatever your name is." Haven's fury is so apparent that I'm surprised when she doesn't smack Electra across the face.

Instead she rises slowly. Her hands are shaking wildly in her anger.

"It's Haven, you over-grown, fake, _witch_," she practically spits the last word. Before she passes the table she turns to me. "I hope you enjoy your lunch, Echo. Don't forget we have prepping after lunch. I can't wait to see us together." She pulls out the word "together," dragging it over a span of two seconds. Her tone is lilting, flirty. She gives me a stunning smile, pushes my chin up with a finger and kisses me squarely on the lips. A girlish giggle follows as she leaves, her finger trailing over my face.

I'm kind of astounded. What the _hell_ just happened?

When I turn to raise my eyebrows at Cider, I see Electra out of the corner of my eye. She is glaring daggers at Haven and her body is shaking. After several minutes, she stands.

"Excuse me for a moment, won't you, dear?"

"Electra." Shock has reached out a hand and is holding her fast. "Don't." Her stare is loathsome. "Give it to me, Electra." Reluctantly, her fist relaxes. Her steak knife drops to the table, clattering loudly.

"It's none of your business, Shock," she hisses, turning on her heel and storming out the door.

"What's all that about?" I ask bravely, not wanting an answer. Shock just shakes his head.

"She is cruel. She shows no mercy. You have to understand that." Shock sighs, twirling a large ring with a gray stone around his finger. When he looks at me again, his eyes are intense. "I would advise you to stay away from her. Always watch your back, and protect your friends, Echo. I like you, and I don't want to see her hurt you or them."

"But you have to deal with her all the time…shouldn't we watch your back too?" he laughs, a true laugh. But his smile is wry.

"Believe me, if she was going to do anything to me, she would have done something by now. She hasn't decided what my usefulness in these games will be, so until she does, I'm safe. But none of you are, so, just watch your back."

Cider and I nod gravely. "Thanks for the warning." Shock smiles widely. His teeth are pristinely white and his canine teeth are long and pointed. He rather reminds me of a wild animal with sharp teeth; sweet and likeable on the outside but completely dangerous on the inside.

"Any time. Any time."

Lunch ends soon after. Pepper and Haven join me and Cider and we take an elevator together.

"See you later?" Haven says as we exit on our floor.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Pepper replies sweetly. As I go to leave, she steps in my way, and I brush against her. The fact that she only smiles lightly while giving me an intense look when I apologize tells me that she did it on purpose. "Bye, Echo."

My mouth is so dry that I can't even say "bye" in return, so I wave as the doors close.

"If you were any more ignorant, you'd be a cucumber," Haven informs me harshly as we walk into the living center.

"How do you mean?" I demand hotly.

"She's playing you for all its worth, Echo!" Her hesitation hints that there's more.

"What?" I demand again.

"I think she might like you, but that there, what she just did, is going to make a lot of trouble. And I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm fine. I can handle myself. But what about you? Why the hell did you kiss me?" Her face erupts in red.

"That bitch, Electra…she just made me so mad, and it seems the only way to break her is through you." She finally meets my eyes. "I'm sorry, okay?"

I shrug.

"Whatever, sweetheart." Her eyes narrow in irritation.

"Please don't call me that." Then she strides quickly away from me.

"Haven, wait," I call, but I pause after entering the living center. There is a strange collection of people lounging about the room. Haven is standing to the side looking as confused as I am.

"Ooo!" A stout, pleasantly plump woman squeals as she sees us. "They're here!" Her voice is shrill, but she seems almost matronly.

Almost instantly I am surrounded by three of them. Over the head of one with green hair, I see that Haven looks just as alarmed and almost frightened.

"Come along, come along." I am ushered back to my room and I fear that I won't make it out alive.

I'm pushed unceremoniously into the room. The door is shut with finality and I am completely at their mercy.

* * *

**Forgive me for not having more exciting stuff in this chapter. I promise that it has a purpose in the games :). Reviews would be nice! Let me know if it's sparking an interest or if it's boring. **

**Thanks!**

**Steph**


	5. Poseidon

They introduce themselves to me. The green-haired lady, who has a mint-green complexion to match, calls herself Finnah. She is only twenty, at the most, but the green makes her look like a monster. She tells me that it was supposed to match with District 4, and I feel bad for my earlier thoughts.

The other two are very similar to each other: bubblegum pink hair, large blue eyes. The girl has very poofy hair, piled on top of her head with black sticks poking out of the mountain. The boy has cropped hair with a base of pure white at the roots. They both have snowy white skin that is made whiter by the pink hair. They introduce themselves as Kayta and Cero.

All of them are eccentric and they immediately grate on my nerves. But they seem nice enough.

I am stripped of my clothes and made to stand in the middle of the room. I cover myself as best I can, embarrassed because of Finnah and Kayta, and even of Cero. They all walk around me, studying every inch of my body.

"Okay," Cero says, taking me by the shoulders and pushing me to the bathroom. He starts the shower, clicking at least a dozen options before smiling at me. "Here you go, Echo," he says brightly. "All you have to do is stand there. The shower will do the rest." I nod and solemnly step in to the stream of water. I can't help but feel that this will be a terrible experience.

The water is perfect temperature. My tense muscles relax under the water as it washes away the sweat from my body. Dozens of soaps, scents, and shampoos are dumped over me at regular intervals. When I emerge from the shower, I smell like rose water, a tangy sea storm, and a sharp but pleasant musk. I imagine that my skin must be gleaming from how clean it got, but I am disappointed at how soft it is. I'm a man of the sea. I am calloused and seasoned just as well. My hands are hard, not soft. But I deal with it and step out to my doom, once again.

Finnah is quickly by my side. Her eyes rove over my bare chest and she blushes when she catches me watching her.

"Let's begin, shall we? What did Larcin say to do?"

"All of it. No make-up—he says he'll do it special."

"Hmm." Finnah pushes me towards the large, mirrored desk across the room. "Okay! Let's get started!"

It takes several minutes for me to realize exactly what they are planning to do. A steaming, liquid substance is coming towards me accompanied by some nasty-looking white strips. It smells like melted plastic or—

"No." I back away from them, horrified. "This is not happening!" Panicked, I press my back against the wall.

"Oh, honey," Kayta says calmly. "It won't even hurt that much."

"It's not going to hurt at all, because it's not happening." As the three of them keep coming at me, I keep moving away. I roll across the bed, dart across to the window, never turning my back to them, until I'm pressed against the bathroom door. Thinking quickly, with Cero looking exasperatedly at Kayta, I throw myself into the room, slam the door shut, and twist the lock.

I am a very regal person, to say it honestly. I like myself the way I am. I keep myself clean-shaven, but I like my chest hair. Not to mention, most of it is all bleached by the sun, so I don't feel the need to have hot wax poured all over me.

"Echo, please come out."

"I won't."

Cero's deep voice rumbles on the other side of the door, but I miss what he says. I do hear Finnah's response, though.

"Well what do you want me to do? No one told us how to deal with someone who would refuse to be prepped!"

Cero responds, and Finnah shrieks something back, but I try to ignore them.

"Quiet, the both of you!" The sound of a scuffle reaches me. "Go get him, Finnah. Go!"

Then silence. Cero tries to make me come out, but I refuse. No way.

I putter around the bathroom for at least ten minutes. I twiddle my thumbs, tap on the sink, gaze at my piece of eight….Finally, a soft knock on the door.

"Echo, will you please come out? I promise that all I want to do is talk." The voice is different, not one that I've heard before.

Reluctantly I unlock the door. When I crack it open, a soft white robe is waiting for me.

"Here, put this on." The voice is distinctly male, but it is calming and I immediately trust it. I sling the robe over my back, cinch it at the waist, and step out into my bedroom.

He is standing at the window, gazing out at the Capital. His hair is a light brown and falls in feathered layers down to his neck. I am surprised to see how young he is. His smile is light and bright, with very white teeth.

"Hello, Echo," he says gently, holding out a hand to me. "My name is Larcin and I'll be your stylist for the Capital Games." I take his hand cautiously, but his shake is firm and, I can't help but think, _normal_. "Come, sit. We'll have a snack here, and talk awhile."

We sit at a small table that must have come with the stylist himself. A silver platter of sandwiches offers tantalizing combinations of cheese and meat, and a large jug of blue juice sits beside it.

"What is a stylist, exactly?" I ask, staring into the man's grey-green eyes. He laughs as if it is a tragedy.

"My job, for these Games, is to dress you classily. I am to make you look your best so that when the citizens of the Capital want to help you, they have a clean-cut image of you." He laughs the same sad laugh again. "Eat, Echo. Help yourself." He reaches for a sandwich himself. He polishes it off quickly, then brushes the crumbs off of his smart black suit. "How old are you, Echo?"

"I'm eighteen," I tell him. Before I can stop myself I ask, "How old are _you_?"

"I'm nineteen." He laughs softly, though this time it is not as sad. "Tell me, how are you liking the Capital?"

"I'm not," I tell him truthfully. "I hate it here. It's too far away from the ocean. Besides, something isn't right about all of this "Game" business. If they wanted to give us repentance, why not just do it in our district?"

"Yes, why not indeed? The Capital does not give repentance, Echo. You must understand that. The Capital does not take responsibility for their actions and it does not care to deal with the consequences of anything."

"So what is the point of the Capital's Games?"

His brow furrows as he answers: "I don't know. I've heard rumors but some of them are most ridiculous, and I can't get a confirmation. But I'll let you know as soon as I find out something." He smiles lightly at me, but I don't completely buy it.

"If you don't like the Capital so much, why are you being a stylist for the Games?"

"I never said I didn't like the Capital," he defends quickly.

"Oh, please!" I say exasperatedly. "Just by the look on your face, I can tell." Larcin stares at me, and I wonder if I've offended him. Then he sighs and looks away, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I'm originally from District 8, Echo," he says quietly. "I grew up there, my mother and father grew up there. I worked day and night in the factories until I was sixteen. I could sew as well as any woman and I had some of the nimblest fingers.

"The rebellion came about just as I turned seventeen. Of course, I loved District 8, as any citizen of their district loves it there, for it is home. But I wanted something better for myself. Echo, I wanted to see the world." He laughs at himself, rubbing his hands over his face. He looks older, when his eyes meet mine.

"Apparently, there isn't much of the world. Panem is an oasis in an endless sea. At the time, thirteen districts supported it all, and what wasn't in the districts was forest, desert, and sea. But I had a purpose, and the superfluous nonsense that existed as a physical country didn't matter anymore.

"I was stationed in District 1, controlling skirmishes around the boarders. The platoon I was in, well, they didn't much like me. They thought that I was spoiled with my position, as my father was one of the renowned leaders of the whole shebang. And, really, they set me up. I wasn't allowed to fight—my position was because I had earned it, but my father made it so I couldn't participate. I eventually convinced him that I would do better to be helping my soldiers than sitting behind a door and placing orders on paper.

"We were sent on a reconnaissance mission. Nothing was supposed to happen. We weren't supposed to run in to any Capitolians. But we did. A huge squadron of them—we were taken easily by them. Perhaps too easily.

"As the weeks passed and I saw no sign of my fellow soldiers, I knew that I had been set up. Of course they hated me, if only because I was a good person and in charge of them when they were lowly and poor outside of the army. But the damage had been done, and I was a prisoner of war." He pauses then, a thoughtful look on his handsome face. Yes, I could see it. I could see him as a soldier.

"I must have spent two months in their prison. Rather, it was a solitary confinement. I never saw another soul, except for the little boy who came to give me meals.

"When they finally let me out, I was taken directly to court for my trial. I was convicted of treason and sentenced to death." He chuckles darkly, then, tossing his head back and letting out a bark. "The Capital wouldn't let me die, though."

"So you owe them?" I ask, confused.

"Oh, no. No, no, I owe the Capital nothing, I assure you. I was a textile maker in District 8. In District 1 I was first a soldier and second a designer. It sounds petty, but it is my favorite pastime, and the citizens of the Capital loved my designs. Absolutely loved them.

"When they heard that I was sentenced to death…you should have seen the riots they started. They wouldn't allow it. They wouldn't let their favorite designer die off that easily."

"You feel graciously towards them?"

"No. I am here, being a stylist, because I am forced to. This city is my prison, now. The people of the Capital saved me, but I wish they would have just let me die. It would be much easier, and I would at least be away from this awful country."

"I'm sorry," I tell him softly.

"Don't feel sorry for me. Feel sorry for the men who betrayed me, because if ever I get the chance to kill them, they will die." I have no doubt at all that what he says is true. He shakes his head and smiles at me. "I'm sorry. Back to your original question: I am a stylist because I have no other choice. The Capital monitors every move I make—if I were to refuse the position, I would likely be targeted more than I already am."

"Well, that sucks," I say, thinking that I wouldn't be able to handle the same pressures that he is under.

"You could say that," he snorts into his cup of juice. "Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about yourself." I stare at the shiny swirls on his tie for several minutes before answering.

"Well," I begin, "I'm eighteen years old, and I live in District 4. Um, I have an older brother; his name is Jareth and he is my best friend. My family owns several boats and we go out fishing all the time. Um…I guess that's it. I'm not very interesting."

"Quite the contrary, I must say," Larcin quips, his expression thoughtful. "What do you like to do? I've never been to District 4, though I've heard it is plentiful in adventurous pastimes."

"Maybe," I chuckle, drumming my fingers on my knee. "For an outsider, anyway. But, I love sailing. My dad has this beautiful sail boat: it slices though the water without hardly any drag, and it sails like a dream. He let me help him build it…I take it out almost every day."

"That sounds like a wonderful hobby," Larcin says. "Is the sea as clear as they say it is?"

"Clear as glass, on most days. Unless there is a storm coming; then the water is choppy and it turns gray."

"Hmm. That sounds beautiful. And what about your friends?"

"Well, there's Fenton, and Sehra. There's Savannah and Madisen. And Jareth, of course. They're all great. All of them."

"Any girlfriends?" I laugh at the question.

"That's kind of complicated. I mean, there are girls. Girlfriends? I couldn't say. They can't make up their minds." Larcin chuckles, swiping his fingers though his hair. The action makes him look even younger than nineteen.

"I've been there plenty of times, myself. What're their names?"

"Moss, Farrah, and Tangilee. They're all beautiful. I love them all. And none of them can make up their minds. Have you a girl back home?"

"Well, it depends on what you call home, I suppose. Yes and no, in that respect." He gropes in his pocket and pulls out a folded picture. He presses it flat with nimble fingers and then hands it to me.

The picture showcases a woman and a child. She is beautiful. Her blonde hair falls in curls around her face; the angle of the sun makes her look angelic. She has high cheekbones, wide, blue eyes, and perfect lips.

Her baby is nestled against her shoulder. He peeks shyly out from behind her hair—he has green eyes, just like Larcin.

"They're beautiful," I say, handing the photograph back to him. He stares at it for several minutes before sticking it back in his wallet.

"My wife and my son." His voice is choked a little, so I don't speak as he composes himself. "I have not seen her since I was captured. At least a year and a half."

"How old is your son?"

"Ah, he is almost three, now. He will be three in October."

"What are their names? And are they here with you, in the Capital?"

"Her name is Jaysamine. And our son is named Aren. They are in District 1." His voice is distressed again. "The Capital refuses to allow them to come, and they do not allow me to leave the damned city." His fist falls on the table, making me jump. "Of course, with my status and my connections, I have a fortune to expend to get them here. I'm almost there. One more payment, and they will be here."

"I'm glad, for you." He smiles lightly at me.

"Me, too." Suddenly he jumps to his feet. "Enough chit-chat for today. We've got to get you ready, or Delia will pitch a fit." We both shudder, then set to work.

Larcin pushes me into a chair and turns me towards him.

"Finnah, Kayta, and Cero were all quite offended when you wouldn't let them prep you." His fingers are working a gel into my hair. I can see the effect he is going for in the mirror: swirls and waves. Not curls or curly hair, just swirls.

"I'm sorry," I shoot back sarcastically. "Do you care to have your body waxed?"

"I can't say. I've never had it done."

"Exactly." We chuckle together as he traces my eyes in a dark grey color. "Why make-up?"

"It will complete the ensemble. I promise that I won't make it gaudy. You couldn't pull it off anyway." I'm slightly offended, but his joking manner smoothes it over.

He works quickly, rubbing the powder around my eyes, smearing a blue-grey cream on the creases in my face, arms, and neck. He brushes powdered gold over the skin on my face, arms, chest, legs, and back. He even dusts it over my hair.

He nods in satisfaction, bids me stand, and hands me a garment bag.

"Put this on."

The costume is not extravagant. It is a white toga that drapes across one shoulder. Golden swirls rest on the shoulders and hold a regal blue and gold cape. Simple sandals that lace up to my knees are my shoes, and a crown of gold-covered coral sits lightly on my hair.

I look striking. The dark accents on my face make me look dangerous and bold. I shimmer in the light from the gold powder, and I look like a king. I hardly recognize myself.

Larcin is lounging in a chair, studying me closely.

"I thought, for you, and for District 4, that you would be well to be a king. You're a handsome fellow, strong and commanding. District 4 has one of the most important components of Panem: the ocean." His eyes eat up his creation.

"At one time, before Panem, and even before North America existed, the people of the Earth worshiped gods. They had gods for the sun, for love, for the sky, and for the sea, along with many others. The God of the Sea was called Poseidon, and I think you do well representing him, and your district." He stands behind me now, our eyes locked together though the mirror. "You look the part, Echo. A fierce king—a dominating god. If you do not impress the Capital, I will be surprised." He pauses, fixing a swirl in my hair.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He turns from me and disappears out the door. He returns seconds later, a beautifully gilded trident in his hand. "You'll need this, Echo. Poseidon never goes anywhere without his trident."

I have to force my hand to close over the handle of the beautiful weapon, my shock is so great.

"Thank you," I manage to get out. Larcin's smile is blinding.

"You are most welcome. I couldn't have chosen a better person to work with, or who would fit the role as well as you do, if I had had the choice. Come. Let us set the Capital in a tizzy. "

I take one last look at myself before following him.

I was no longer Echo Delta of District 4.

Tonight, I was Poseidon: God of the Sea.

* * *

**So, tell me. Is anyone reading this? I guess it doesn't matter, but I like reviews just as much. Let me know if it's interesting, if you hate it, FLAMES ARE WELL INVITED!, or if it's lame. I know it's not exciting yet, but the Hunger Games are just beginning! Lots of differences and lots of problems to work out first. Anyway...review? Please?**

**Steph**


	6. Gladiators

Larcin escorts me down to the launching dock. It is a large room where twelve chariots wait in a line, all pointed to a single door that opens up to a mystery, but I suspect it is wherever the Capital will be viewing us.

District 4's chariot is painted gold and silver, pulled by two obsidian-colored horses. Their harnesses are gold, a silver feather sprouting between their ears.

"Good luck, Echo," Larcin tells me, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. "Remember, smile, and be the king that you are." I grimace at him, but the nerves are killing my stomach. He smiles encouragingly, then departs, leaving me by myself.

I lean my trident against the chariot and sidle up to the horses. They snort when they see me, and I smile softly. Horses aren't much of a rarity in District 4, so I feel comfortable around them. These two have name plates on their harnesses. One is named Knight and the other is named Anakin. I pet them for awhile, and we become good friends.

"Well, don't you just look _stunning_." I whip around, finding myself toe to toe with Haven. I feel my jaw drop open and my brain finds it difficult to form sound thoughts for several minutes. Haven frowns, a pink blush flashing over her cheeks. "What? Do I look bad? Jersey said I looked fine…Echo?"

Saying that Haven looked fine was a complete understatement. She is drop-dead gorgeous.

Her hair falls down her back in a lustrous waterfall, coming to rest in the middle of her back. A silver crown of seashells and pearls rests over the top of her head. Her face is beautifully accented with a shimmering, Alice blue cream, her eyes outlined in Egyptian blue, with swirls and designs branching across her skin.

Her costume is diaphanous. The fabric drapes over her, accentuating her tiny waist and her long legs are bare. Little silver ballet shoes cover her petite feet. She is dusted in silver, and the fabric collects light, reflecting it off the silver dust and the sheer dress, giving the impression of sunlight on water.

"No, you look gorgeous, Haven," I tell her, kissing her cheek. Her blush deepens, but she smiles softly.

"Jersey said I was supposed to be a sea nymph, or something. Some kind of spirit of the sea."

"A fitting companion for Poseidon," I reply, smiling widely back at her.

"And you look great, too," she assures me, fixing a lock of my hair. "Who're your friends?" Knight and Anakin are snorting impatiently behind me.

"These are Knight and Anakin. I guess they are our ride tonight." She steps up to Anakin, stroking his ears and kissing his velvety nose.

"Well, they are very nice company." She watches me from the corner of her eye.

"Was it traumatizing? Being prepped?"

"No," she laughs. "I heard it was for you. Jersey told me that Larcin was called away at least two hours earlier than he was supposed to."

"Yeah," I snort. "It wasn't much fun." Her smile widens for a moment, and then she turns her face away from me. I'm confused for a moment, but a tap on my shoulder distracts me.

"Hi, how are you?" Pepper and Cider have come to meet us. If I thought that Haven was gorgeous, Pepper is downright dazzling. Her red hair is pulled back with tendrils tickling her face. Gold highlights her cheekbones, and her green eyes are the most prominent feature. She is also almost completely naked. Vines are draped over her body, branching over the only places where it is necessary to be covered. A circlet of flowers and leaves adorns her hair.

"We're great," Haven answers for me. "Wow, you look beautiful, Pepper."

"Thanks, you also." Her smile is stunning and her eyes shy away from me.

I notice Cider, then. He is similarly dressed like Pepper, but a modest cloth wraps around his waist, and he looks young. The vines cross over his chest and the two of them look like they could live in the forest—like they are part of the forest.

"What are you supposed to be?" Cider asks, his hands clasped together as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

"I am a sea nymph, or naiad. Echo is supposed to be Poseidon." Cider nods, a curl of hair falling into his eyes. He glares at it, as if it had annoyed him before. Haven steps forward, licking her fingers and sticking it back in place. Her fingers linger in his brown hair a little too long, and as she pulls away, her face is almost beet red. "Sorry." His shy smile is enough, but after he looks away from her, I don't see either of them even attempt to glance at each other.

"And you?" I inquire, trying to save them. "What are you supposed to be?"

"I don't really know," Pepper answers, rolling her eyes. "I've no idea. I don't like being exposed like this, but we can't much deny them anything, can we?" She sighs heavily, tossing one of the curls away from her face.

"Incoming," Haven coughs, twirling towards the horses and practically hiding behind them. Cider and I share a glance of confusion before I am swept into an embrace. I am acutely aware of how much does not separate Pepper's body from my own and the smell of her hair invades my senses.

"I'll meet you on the roof tonight, yes?" She whispers, her fingers working into my hair. There is hardly any space between us, and her lips tickle my ear. "Two thirty. I can't wait, Echo." She sighs out my name, and I can hardly breathe. When she pulls away, I can barely stand, and I am immediately caught in the glare from Electra, who is standing rather close—close enough to hear everything Pepper said.

Haven and Pepper erupt in laughter, link arms with each other, and disappear behind our chariot. I'm left with Cider, who looks as confused as I feel.

"What was that all about?" I ask him, still breathless, the warmth from her body still present on my skin.

"I've no idea," Cider replies, glancing over his shoulder. "Those two have been plotting; that's all I know."

"You look wonderful," Electra tells me, lightly caressing my shoulder. "And you also, Cider." Her dress is twinkling with lights and her hair is done up and wrapped in copper wire.

"Thanks," Cider and I respond together. An awkward silence follows, and she shuffles away dejectedly several minutes later.

"Well," I begin to say, but I am interrupted by the stern, grey-haired lady from this morning.

"Everyone, please settle into your carriages. You will be presented to the Capital shortly."

As I step up to the chariot, I get my first glimpse of the other tribute's clothing. The tributes from 1 are dressed in matching jeweled suits, the ones from 2 look like Peacekeepers, Electra and Shock have the twinkling lights in their dress and suit…they are all I get the chance to see before I'm being barked at to sit down.

Haven clambers up beside me and I pass an incredulous look in her direction.

"When did you and Pepper become such good friends?" I ask as she raises an eyebrow at me. "I thought you hated her?"

"She's growing on me," she informs me, fixing her dress. "Besides, they seem to be good people who could be our friends." She stops talking for awhile, and all of the horses start shuffling their feet in impatience.

"She didn't mean it, did she?" I inquire, not sure if I really want to hear the answer. The procession begins to move: District 1's chariot disappears into a bright light.

"I think she did," Haven finally answers. "We had talked, at lunch, about setting Electra up like that, to make her fit to spit nails again. But you weren't ever included in the plans. If she told you to meet her, and she didn't say that she wasn't serious, I would say she meant it. If it were me, I would go." She looks at me and says sincerely, "I think she likes you. The same fire is in her eyes when she looks at you." I'm speechless, to say the least. I don't know how to reply, and thankfully, I don't have to.

We are at the door leading out into: what? I don't know what to expect.

Our chariot is pulled out and we are encased in a spotlight. The tributes from Districts 1 and 2 are in the middle of the circle, I guess you could call it. Or arena, maybe, would be the better term. It appears that the spotlight is tinted a color pertaining to our district: 1's is silver, 2's is brown, 3's, whose chariot is exactly one half of the arena away from us, is a bright yellow. Ours is tinted blue.

The arena is huge—at least a quarter-mile around in length—and it is surrounded by thousands of people. Stands reach up towards the sky until I can't see them anymore, and every seat is filled. The outrageous skin and hair colors added fluorescent accents throughout the stands, giving the impression of sherbet ice cream in cloud form. Their screams are deafening, and I can hear my name being chanted, along with Haven's. I keep a smile on my face, though I don't really feel it in my heart.

As we round the corner and our chariot goes to its place next to District 3's in the middle of the arena, I become aware of a painful pressure on my right hand. Haven has my hand clasped tightly in hers. I angle myself towards her, ready to demand my hand back, but then I see the expression on her face.

It is one of panic. Her eyes are wide and dart about nervously; her lips are closed tightly, and her muscles are clenched and tense. When she looks at me, I swear she could be twelve. She's terrified, her whole body shaking, and I fear for her. I can't even discern what has upset her so much.

She is pressed close to me, our thighs touching, and she won't allow any space between us. Her change in attitude and behavior worries me.

We sit together, staring out at the crowd, for at least twenty minutes, as the rest of the tributes make their lap of the arena. I'm relieved that we will finally be leaving the watching eyes of the Capital, but a voice announces otherwise.

"Please, tributes of Panem, stand and bow." The twenty four of us stand awkwardly and bow forward to thunderous applause as Henrik Fox speaks again. "Please, citizens of Panem, give a warm welcome to our tributes!" After some of the excitement has calmed, the President continues.

"These twenty-four, lucky children have come to the Capital for a unique opportunity. Each child will be competing against the others to win the games and return to their families a victor. Tonight was your first glimpse at these delightful tributes. Now, don't forget to tune in tomorrow for their interviews, and prospective sponsors can begin signing on as soon as twelve o'clock tonight. Bid our friends goodnight, everyone." A chorus of "goodnight" follows the procession of chariots as we reenter the launching dock. I don't even find the importance of the mention of sponsors worth thinking about. The only thing I'm concerned about is Haven.

She still hasn't let me go, and her nails are digging painfully into my arm. She pulls me off her side of the chariot, refusing to break contact with me.

"Hey, hey," I tell her, pulling her into my arms. She buries her face against my shoulder and I can feel her shaking. "What's wrong? Haven, look at me. What's wrong?" I force her chin up, making her meet my eyes.

"Do you realize what that was? What they are treating us like?" I shake my head, confused. Tears well in her eyes. "That was like the Colosseum, Echo. There was a society, hundreds of thousands of years ago, that made this awesome arena. Just like the one we were just in. They would stock the amphitheatre with people, and they would force the prisoners of the societies they defeated to fight to the death. Sometimes they would even allow their own people to fight, to kill.

"They would showcase their own form of "tributes" and the people would place bets.

"That's exactly what they're doing to us, Echo! They're showcasing us, allowing those stupid people to make bets on us! That's all we are to them! These stupid Games are just for the Capital to entertain themselves, and to punish the Districts for rebelling and losing. We're nothing to them, Echo. To them, we are expendable. We're just gladiators."

The weight of her words sets heavily on my shoulders as it sinks in.

"And gladiators do what, exactly?" I remembered the lesson, though it was short, taking place once upon a time. But my brain wasn't working right, and I needed someone to tell me exactly what was going on.

"Gladiators kill each other, Echo. It's a fight to the death."


	7. I Could Know You

My first thought is maybe she is wrong. Haven has to be wrong. People are not that cruel any more. They don't put people—children—in a ring and expect them to kill each other. It just doesn't happen that way. Not in this day in age.

My second thought is that maybe she is actually right, and my eyes swipe over Pepper and Cider. Fear grips my chest and I find it hard to breathe. I could never kill either of them. I could never kill Pepper—I mean, I think I am half in love with her—and I can't kill Cider—he's too sweet, and I consider him a friend, now. I look to Haven, who still looks like she five years younger than she actually is. I could never kill Haven, either. Friends don't kill each other.

"Come on," I say softly. Haven continues to clutch at me, refusing to let any space between us. We don't catch the elevator with Pepper and Cider, but she catches my eye and gives me a questioning look. I shake my head once and she nods once in return. Perhaps we will talk about it on the roof tonight.

We get paired with the tributes from District 7. They introduce themselves to us. Their names are Aralia and Flitch—they are twins—but I try to not speak to them. We've already made enough friends at this point. No need to make more if we are only supposed to kill each other.

When we arrive on our floor, Haven still refuses to let me go and drags me to her room.

"What are we going to do, Echo?" Her voice is so distressed that it nearly breaks my heart. "I can't kill someone!" She starts to cry again, sagging against me. I pass my fingers comfortingly through her hair.

"Shh, we'll be okay. I promise, we'll be okay." I pick her up and carry her to her bed. She snuggles under the comforter, still crying, still holding on to me.

"Don't leave me, Echo," she pleads, only gently touching my hand now. "Please don't go." I sigh to myself, but I can't say no. I stroke her hair for a moment, and then stretch out beside her.

She rolls into me, my arm made her possession, and she uses my shoulder as a pillow. As we lay together, our fingers twined, I wonder how we actually are going to do this. And I wonder why I feel such a close bond with Haven when my new objective will be to kill her.

I chuckle darkly, though silently. No. My new objective is to stay alive and to keep Haven, Pepper, and Cider alive. If it comes down to the four of us, how could they force us to kill each other? If we make a pact not to kill, then we can all survive.

_But what if Haven _is_ wrong?_ I ask myself. _What if she is wrong?_

Unfortunately, I can't see an alternative to her being right. As soon as she said it, stated that we are, ultimately, gladiators, I knew it was the truth. It explained the "training" we were going through, and it was supported by what Larcin had told me. The Capital serves repentance to no one.

"I want to go home, Echo," Haven whispers. "I don't want to play in the Games."

"I know," I murmur. "I want to go home, too. But I don't think we have much of a choice. We'll take it as it comes, Haven. And I promise I'll do everything to make it so that one of us wins." A choked sob escapes from her, and her tears wet my skin.

She falls asleep not much later, whispering, "stay with me," as she drifts off to dreamland.

I stay for awhile, but as 2:30 comes closer, I begin to get antsy. There was a 50/50 chance that Pepper was waiting for me, and there was a 50/50 chance that she had forgotten, or hadn't meant it. To go or stay fight in my head, and eventually my curiosity wins out.

I slip out of bed, trying not to jostle Haven, but she wakes up anyway.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm meeting Pepper," I tell her softly. Her eyes are wide and panicked again.

"You'll come back? Promise me you'll come back?" I cross over to her and stroke her hair out of her face.

"I promise I will come back, Haven," I assure her. She instantly relaxes and I press a kiss on her brow, then depart.

The elevator deposits me in a room made completely of glass. The view of the Capital is beautiful. Every color of the rainbow radiates in lights around the city, and the clouds in the sky host a beautiful yellow moon. The door to the roof is slightly ajar, and I take a deep breath, then push it open.

The air is sweet and dry. A small garden of vegetables and colorful flowers are off to the left, giving the air its scent. A soft breeze ruffles my hair, and if I close my eyes and access the deepest part of my imagination, I can almost pretend that I am home.

I see her immediately. She is standing with her back to me, leaning against the edge of the roof, looking out onto the streets of the Capital. I note that she has not changed out of her chariot costume, and realize that I have not, either. Slightly embarrassed, I cast away the gold crown with a mind to pick it up later, and cross to her on silent feet.

I stand as close as I can to her without touching her. Somehow it is a pleasurable game that I can play—to see just how close I must be for her to notice.

Her hair is tousled in the wind—she has let it down and it twirls like flames in the moonlight. Her skin is milky white, and my hands tremble with the want to touch her.

"You look ravishing," I say instead, taking a few steps away from her, although I believe that she is not fooled by my sudden distance. Her smile is light, though it doesn't fully reach her eyes.

"As do you, Echo," she says softly. Her eyes trace over my face, and I suddenly feel self-conscience.

"I half expected you to not be here," I say, chuckling softly. "With you and Haven against Electra, I can never figure out when you are serious and when you aren't."

"I half expected myself not to come," she replies quietly, twisting back to the view of the Capital. "But I couldn't stand being inside this building tonight. Something just doesn't click. I can't get comfortable. And…I wanted to see you." Her voice is so quiet in the last statement that I think I have imagined it, though my heart is racing.

"Is Haven okay?" she continues, her muscles rippling as she grips the edge of the roof. "She looked really, really upset."

"She'll be okay," I tell her quietly.

"What upset her?" I sigh heavily, scraping my fingers though my hair, scattering gold powder all over the place. I step up beside her and lean on the concrete barrier.

"The Capital intends for us all to kill each other."

"_What_? You've _got_ to be joking!" She glares at me incredulously. "Tell me you're joking, Echo."

"I wish I could. I've gone through every other alternative in my head. But really, can't you see them doing it? The Capital is ruthless, and I—I don't know…I can see them doing it. They've been training us with weapons. I don't see any other option." Her brows furrow.

"My God." She crunches her eyes shut, hiding her face in the crook of her arm. She believes that I don't see the tears roll down her cheeks. "Well, I can't say that this was how I wanted to end my life," she laughs bitterly. "I mean, do they have any other motivation except for their entertainment? Do they have any mercy?"

"No. They don't. Listen, Pepper," I murmur, laying my hand tenderly against her back. She flinches, so I drop my hand. "I promised Haven, and I'm promising you, that I will do everything I can to get one of us out. If you want that protection, I mean."

"Oh, Echo," she sighs my name, turning slowly to face me. Her fingers trace up my arm and up my face. Her smile is sad as she says, "you don't need to do that."

"I do," I retort.

"Don't, Echo." Her eyes are intense as she locks her fingers in my hair. "You don't need to protect me, and besides, I wouldn't feel right. I don't even know you, really."

"You could know me."

Her laugh is low and husky—flirty, I realize.

"Yes, Echo," she whispers. "I know that I could know you." She rises on her tip toes, bringing her lips so close to mine that I imagine the touch, but then she gently pushes me away and removes all of the contact between us. "But I don't think that it would be wise. I don't want to have to kill you, or fear you."

"I wouldn't kill you," I whisper, then laugh at the absurdity. "Hell, I couldn't kill anyone. I doubt I could even cut someone, if it came down to it."

"You kill fish all the time."

"That's different. They aren't human."

"Not much difference. They still have families, Echo. They are still living, until you stop their heart." I frown; fishing was such a staple in District 4 that I had never really thought about it that way.

"Maybe. I don't disagree that on some degree it is wrong, but it isn't the same as killing a person. Like killing Haven, or killing you. If I was a fish, then it would be wrong to kill other fish. I mean…you're making this very difficult."

Her eyes dance with laughter, and the corners of her mouth curve into a delicate smile. "I will make everything difficult, Echo. Realize that, before you do anything rash." She releases me from her hold, again, widening the gap between us.

"_Rash_-ionalizing is my very being, Pep," I say joyfully, looking up to the sky. Some stars are scattered across the smoky backdrop, something like the Districts over Panem: random but strategic. I imagine that whoever painted the sky had specific reasons for their placement. Just as my fate had been painted by someone, somewhere, to do what I had to do, and to live, or die.

When I glance down at Pepper, her face is positively loathsome. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her nostrils flared.

"Don't call _ever_ me 'Pep,'" she growls. For reasons I cannot explain, I burst out laughing. It is difficult for me to take her seriously, with that look on her face. "Why are you laughing?" she demands, shoving her hands at my chest.

But I catch them, in my own hands. She struggles against me, her nails biting into my skin, her feet stomping on my own. I hold her at arms' length, letting her fight my grip, though I am stronger than she is.

"Let me go!" She finally yells, wrenching against my grasp to no avail. She twists hard, ducking under my guard and landing a well-aimed kick to my stomach. My breath is knocked out of me, but I continue to hold her. She is panting now, frustrated, and she is becoming annoying. All she has to do is ask nicely.

"Just ask nicely," I try to tell her, but her labored breathing drowns my words, so I knock her feet out from under her. She crashes to the ground, flat on her back, a look of disbelief on her face. "All you had to do was ask nicely," I inform her, turning my back to her. Almost immediately, I realize I have made a serious mistake.

"Just ask nicely, and maybe I'll let you live." I am looking up at her from the ground, my head reeling and my breath lost again. She has her elbow notched in the hollow of my throat, pinning me down. Again, I am absurdly aware of her near-nakedness.

"Fair enough," I whisper. Her glare is unbelieving. "Truce, Pepper. Truce." Satisfied, she sits back on her heels. I sit up cautiously, panting slightly. "I'd hate to be your enemy," I tell her.

"Who ever said I wasn't?" She rises and walks away from me across the roof.

"I guess no one. I just assumed—"

"Have you ever heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer, Echo?" I watch her as she disappears behind a row of tall plants in the garden, her body utterly beautiful in the moonlight. "I promise you that you will never know the difference with me, until it is too late."

Something in her voice makes me believe that she is trying to intimidate me. It's like she's trying to appear more ruthless than she actually is.

I rise silently to my feet and patter to the garden. I can hear her scrunching in the dirt and her body brushing the plants. I immerse myself into the foliage.

"You'll never know where I am," I whisper back to her, circling around her, always keeping her vibrant hair in my vision. "I can promise you that you won't ever see me…" Her head whips around, searching for me, her eyes calculating.

She sucks in her breath as I emerge right beside her, taking her tightly into my arms and holding her fast.

"…until it's too late," I murmur seductively, drawing her intimately close. "In which case, you won't have the chance to keep me closer."

Her eyes are dark and intense. I can practically see her thinking, though I cannot divulge what her decision is.

"Maybe it's best…" she begins, though she doesn't finish as we lean together simultaneously.

"Pepper," I say softly as her lips lean against mine. I watch her eyes flutter close and my hands rest at her waist. Her fingers grip my shoulders, and she sighs my name, the pressure of her grasp lessening with each passing second as I continue to swoon her.

After several moments where she doesn't pull away, I cautiously run my tongue over her lips. Her breath hitches and her hold on me grows tighter as she tugs my mouth open with her teeth, deepening our kiss until my head spins.

I don't have any idea how long we stand there kissing, but we break apart gasping for breath a long time later. Pepper leans her forehead against mine and laughs quietly, breathlessly.

"Yes, Echo." Her voice is soft and smooth, disbelieving and appreciative. "I think I could get to know you."

* * *

**Oh man! So very scandalous! Anyway, a little bit of action next chapter, and then the games FINALLY begin...I didn't originally think that all the pre-Games would take up so many chapters, but...oh well. Anyway, thanks so much to QueenCobraWing for her review :) It made me very happy and inspired me to write some more. I'm on spring break, so I'll try and update as many times as possible this week. And, I have a couple of ideas for another story...let me know if you'd like to see some of it!**

**Steph**


	8. Fletch and Aralia

Haven and I eat breakfast together in the morning. Her eyes showcase her fears and she eats very little.

"Come on, Haven," I tell her quietly, pushing a basket of rolls towards her. "You have to eat. We've only got a few more days left and then we'll be in some kind of arena with a bunch of people who are trying to kill us. You have to build up your strength. Come on, now!" She looks at me helplessly, scared and sad.

"Come on, Haven," I encourage, scooping a bite of eggs onto my fork and holding it to her lips. "I need your help if we're going to live. Just a little more, okay?" Reluctantly she takes a bite and finishes her plate, plus a seaweed biscuit.

"I don't want to do this anymore, Echo," Haven whispers, twisting a gold ring with a blue stone around her finger. "I don't want to play." I frown sadly.

"I don't think we have a choice. I'm sorry. I'll do what I can to keep us alive, alright? Please don't worry too much, Haven. It won't get us anywhere." She nods slowly, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Teach me to fight, Echo. I don't want to go in there as the weakest link."

"I will, I promise. Are you ready?"

"Why wait?"

I shrug my shoulders in agreement and stand, feeling tired, but not from lack of sleep. Haven takes my hand when we meet at the end of the table. I squeeze it gently and we arrive minutes later at the doors to the training arena.

To my surprise, they are unlocked, and we are alone.

"Should we be doing this?" Haven asks uncertainly.

"Beats me," I reply, striding forward into the room. My footsteps echo in the empty space. "We can get a head start, anyway. I mean, you can't make a warrior in one day." She glares at me and I chuckle.

"Very funny, Echo. Very funny."

"Come on now," I tell her, gazing at the multitude of weapons on the left wall. "Don't take offense. Accept who you are and don't be ashamed." She punches me playfully and stands dutifully at my side.

"What do we start with?" I glance over at her. Her expression is serious and her eyes are eager and expectant.

"Question first: do you have any prior experience with weapons?"

"I once had a pretend sword fight with Clarence. We used broken mops. I won."

"Good enough," I mutter to myself, pulling two long rods of wood an inch and a half in diameter and about six feet tall. They were insubstantially light and easy to maneuver, though I could tell that being hit with one would hurt.

"Alright. First, let's see what you can do."

Haven stands several yards away from me, gripping the pole so tightly that her knuckles are white. Her face is alighted with fear, but fierce determination flares in her eyes.

"Remember," I tell her, "defend yourself as best you can. Hit me if you must. Just, don't break anything, okay?" A small smile appears on her lips, but it is gone in a second. She gulps and nods once.

"On the count of three." I count slowly, feeling the wood under my fingers, twirling it over my hands, getting a feel for the weapon. Have and I walk circles around each other. I smile grimly at her as I reach three, and then lunge towards her.

My goal is to not hit her. I hope to swipe her feet out from under her, but even that is difficult.

Haven is amazing. She must have been lying to me, or else she didn't know how well she wielded the stave. Her stick is a blur as she twirls it, parrying my blows, her feet quick and sure, her own attacks landing hard on me more often than I can block them.

Several minutes into our sparring I manage to get inside her guard, landing a few good hits in revenge. But my victory is short lived. She is quick to force me back.

Unfortunately for me, I trip on a loose piece of padding, giving her the opening she needs to win. Her pole swipes under my legs, knocking me to the ground, forcing the breath from my lungs. I don't even have the strength to raise a defense, and she places the end of her rod in the hollow of my throat, placing a foot triumphantly on my chest.

"Any last words, Echo Delta?" She demands, leaning over me, the pressure on my chest increasing painfully.

"Truce," I gasp. Her fierce expression lightens and she steps away from me, offering me a hand. I allow her to pull me to my feet, and I whirl my weapon to my side, the my right fist closed over my heart. I bow low to her—a great sign of respect in District 4.

"Bravo, Haven," I say, still panting, my eyes averted. It is custom to wait for the acceptance and recognition of the given respect.

A soft hand brushes my hair and comes to rest on my left shoulder—again, the customary indication of acknowledgement.

"Thank you, Echo Delta. Please rise and look me in the eyes as my equal. I accept your respect as your friend and I will remember the way in which you have shown me this, and will respect you in return." Her deep brown eyes stare intently into mine, but then she smiles and the seriousness of the Pledge of Respect is driven from the air. She laughs softly, leaning forward and kissing both of my cheeks. I feel the heat here, flushed from the fight and the Pledge.

"That was so _exhilarating_!" Haven grins, spinning with her arms outstretched, lithe as a dancer.

"You're a sandbagger, you know," I accuse her, dropping down to the floor and leaning against the wall to catch my breath.

"I am not! I wasn't that good when I sparred with Clarence."

"I must be bad, then," I chuckle.

"No, no. Just not perfect. You held it too loosely. It needs to be an extension of your arm. As flexible and as strong as you make it."

"And you asked _me_ to teach you?"

"Well, that's what Clarence told me, anyway. It isn't like a sword, with a hilt. It's balanced in the middle, so it can't be as easily controlled with the wrist."

"I don't think you have to worry, Haven. I would be afraid to have to fight you. Everybody else should, too."

She sits beside me, shrugging.

"I can't kill anyone with a stick, Echo. I don't want to kill _anybody_."

"We'll figure out something. I promise." She links her arm through mine and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Well, is there anything you can teach me that will make it so I at least have a chance? Anything at all?"

"Have you thrown knives?"

"No."

"Swords?"

"Like fencing?"

"Yeah, I guess. But sword work is much more arduous, and they are heavier than foils."

"Then no, I guess."

I go through the extensive list of weapons and she says no to every one. I frown, discouraged.

"I guess we'll just have to make you something. We'll figure it out. I promise." She sighs heavily.

"If you say so."

"I do."

We sit for awhile and rise when we hear voices from the lobby. It turns out to be the tributes from seven. They have matching blue eyes and shiny black hair. They stop talking when they realize we are there. They rise quickly but stand several feet apart, glowering at each other. After several moments the girl nudges the boy with a hard elbow to the ribs. He hisses in pain and gnashes his teeth at her before turning towards us.

"Hi," he said, offering his hand to me. "I'm Fletch."

"Hi," I reply warily, shaking hands firmly. "I'm Echo, and this is Haven."

"We know," the girl cuts in, flashing a pretty smile. "I'm Aralia."

"It's nice to meet you," I say politely, disliking how forward she is.

"You also." Aralia's voice was rich and slow, like honey spiked with whisky. "We saw you practicing…the both of you are really good.

"Hardly," I snort, looking sidelong at haven who hits me.

"Thanks. I just wanted to get some practice in before tomorrow, and I wasn't sure that I'd get the chance during regular training."

"Yeah, I know what you mean…well, we were really wondering if you would practice with us, too? We don't do much in District 7, and we really hope to do well in the Games."

Haven and I share a glance. I raise one eyebrow at her and she shakes her head once, deliberately and discreetly. No, we won't tell them. Any knowledge that we can have before the Games will be increase our advantage tenfold as soon as they begin. Though I dislike Aralia, they seem nice enough and my conscience won't allow me to let them go into their death sentence without some way to defend themselves.

"Yeah, we can do that."

It turns out that Aralia and Fletch are pretty nice people. They are twins, best friends, and utterly terrible with weapons. Even as they fail continuously—their knife throwing completely inaccurate and sword handling too messy—they keep up a steady stream of jokes and laughter. The two of them together are positively hilarious. Aralia is mostly the instigator, beginning the whole act of comedy—witty comments and comical movements—and then Fletch is the steady wingman, always finishing the joke with a smart punch line and a flourish.

"My God, Echo, how the hell do you even hold this thing? It feels like one of those little baby spoons covered in that nasty green mush they think little kids like to eat." I laugh for perhaps the thousandth time as I try to show Aralia how to put the silicon-coated darts into the dart gun, finally losing it completely and clutching at a stitch in my side as the bundle of darts explode from her hands.

"What a klutz! Jeeze, Aralia!" Fletch and Haven twirl by us, sparring with the wooden staves. It seems that Fletch is decent at that, landing as many hits as he is taking himself. But even he is clumsy, tripping awkwardly over his feet and even over thin air. Haven isn't fairing much better, for his banter keeps her breathless and they finally fall in a heap, giggling.

It isn't until nearly time for everyone to meet in the lobby that we find a weapon that fits both of them. Though the swords were too cumbersome for them, and it had not occurred to any of us that wielding an axe could be considered using a weapon, Aralia and Fletch were the king and queen of hand-to-hand combat. With short-handled axes, they are positively lethal. It had not occurred to us that, coming from the lumber district, axes would be their best bet. The Oakame twins had thought that since axe-handling is so uncommon, the Games would be focused on other weapons instead. Even though Haven and I had agreed not to disclose our secrets to anyone other than Pepper and Cider—which had been wrong of me to not consult her before I had told them—we couldn't very well let them go in undefended. The feeling of guilt dogs me until I finally resort to encouraging them that the axes will be adequate during the Games.

Haven and I leave the two of them battling and retire just inside the lobby.

"They seem nice," Haven says tiredly.

"I know. I wish they weren't." She nodded slowly, yawning. "Maybe we shouldn't have come down here so early."

"Maybe…but that just means we don't have to push ourselves for the rest of the day."

"Hmm. Maybe a test of our stamina, too. I don't know, Haven. The closer we get to the beginning of the Games the more anxious I get. I don't understand why no one else gets what's going on."

"I don't either. I wonder if it's because they all have so much faith in the Capital? I mean, until President Snow isolated it, it wasn't any worse than we were, right? I mean, kind of like the castles on the bluff…the wealthy live in their own section of the country. Wouldn't the Capital be just like that, but for all of Panem instead? I guess that's what I thought before last night….Now I can only barely contain my anger. It's so vile of them, to make us try and kill each other. We're just kids, Echo. Do they truly believe that we're just going to kill each other?"

"Yes, I think they do." She sighed dismally.

"I wish you weren't such a good person. I wish that they didn't make us bond first. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill people. Especially not you."

"You don't want me to kill you or you don't want to kill me?"

"Neither."

Despite the severity of the subject, I laugh, and even Haven sports a smile.

"Even now it sounds ridiculous. I'm not killing you, Haven. It's just not going to happen." We laugh again and I squeeze Haven to my side. The Capital would not make me kill. In self-defense, maybe. But there was no possible way that I would allow myself to be manipulated by a bunch of freaks who forced children to shed each other's blood.

It is now that the elevators begin spewing out the other tributes. Fletch and Aralia join us, their impish grins infectious. The rest of the tributes crowded around the four of us, the sound of mirth increasing as the twins begin their teasing and joking.

"…you know? Grandfather always says to never cut down a tree with an eagle in it, just because they like to dive bomb you. And one once dropped its babies on me. A _baby_! I mean, would you throw _your_ babies at someone if they were in your house? I just don't understand it!"

"Maybe it's because you're an idiot, Fletchy." Haven and I grin at each other as the congregation break apart in giggles. The twins continue their jokes, mocking each other and even some of the tributes. I catch them making fun of me, but I'm suddenly distracted.

Pepper's soft hand rests familiarly on my shoulder. She trails her fingers down my back, sending shivers up my spine and making my hair stand on end, finally coming to sit possessively at my hip. She stands slightly turned towards me, a clearly visible sense of ownership coming from her stance.

"Good morning," she says brightly, her smile radiant. I can only smile back, for my vocal cords seem to have been frozen by my rapidly beating heart.

"Good morning, Pepper," Haven says, angling herself to completely shield me from the cold glare that I can almost feel Electra giving us. "Where's Cider?"

"He'll be down in a few minutes. He got stuck in the shower. The water wouldn't turn off and the door wouldn't open or something." We all laugh and my heart flutters at the look Pepper gives me.

"I can understand that," Haven giggles just as Fletch pushes his way towards us.

"Ohhhh, itty bitty love birds." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at me, then takes Pepper's free hand and kisses it. "And what a lovely little birdie she is," he says, whirling away from us again.

"Who is that?" Pepper chuckles, stepping closer to me and hooking a few fingers in the belt-loop of my shorts.

"Just Fletch. We met him earlier this morning. He's pretty nice, clumsy like a puppy. But he and his sister are hilarious."

We chat for awhile longer and Cider joins us just before the gray-haired woman announces that the day would be spent training, lunch would be at our leisure, and tomorrow would be the final day before the beginning of the Games.

* * *

**Another chapter this week, as promised, plus a bit of action! Now, the break off on this chapter, and the next chapter, and possibly the one after that, are a little awkward. So as soon as I finish the next/next 2 chapters, I'll post them up, because they all go together, but they are too long to go as one chapter. Anyway, thank you to all of my reviewers! They do inspire me to write, and COMPLETELY improve my day! **

**All my love,**

**Stephanie 3**


	9. With a Dash of Stupidity and Anxiety

Pepper, Cider, Haven, and I go to the rest of the stations, but I focus mainly on weaponry. The Capital has provided several trainers that assist us, giving pointers on swords and knives, even instructing me on archery, which I do well in, to my surprise.

"Practice with me, Echo," Pepper demands of me several hours into the training time. She tosses one of the long staves at me, and I barely have time to prepare myself before her onslaught.

She is well-adapted to the stick-as-a-weapon thing. She is so graceful, dancing circles around me and hardly breaking a sweat as she easily defends herself. Just as Haven knocked me to the floor, Pepper stands triumphantly over me at the end of our bout.

"You lose," she says grinning.

"Whatever," I grumble, pushing her staff away from me and rising to my feet. "Let's try something else."

We pick up swords this time, something I'm decent at. I choose a thin one, slightly curved, of folded steel. It is light and maneuverable, slightly longer than my arm, and I have complete control over it. I believe it is called a scimitar.

Pepper looks determinedly at me, holding a rapier, and I grin wickedly at her. Even though she has the advantage on range, I could tell by the way she held her weapon that she wasn't comfortable.

We circle around each other, brandishing our armaments, feinting periodically. I am the first to make the forward move, and our swords clash. Pepper swings her sword and I parry each blow, easily walking circles around her. My footwork is excellent for this type of weapon. My dad and I would practice regularly for the annual sword competition in District 4, and Jareth and I both have several titles under our belts.

Pepper fares well for a long time, but she makes the crucial mistake of letting down her guard, and I easily disarm her, leaving her defenseless and at my mercy. She stands panting with my sword at her throat, staring intensely at me before gently pushing the blade away from her.

"Alright, Echo," she says finally, bowing her head in respect at me, then glaring at me defiantly. "A tie breaker?"

"Terms?"

"Close-hand combat."

It soon becomes clear that Pepper and I are making the instructors nervous. As we stand off for the third time, the instructors eye us anxiously, and several come to stand near us, apparently afraid that we are trying to kill each other. It kind of makes me laugh, but I keep focused on Pepper, who is twirling two matching daggers in her hands.

I hold my knives tightly in my fists, not quite sure what my strategy is. We are evenly matched this time, so it will be a gamble, no matter what I do.

We go in fighting hard, our knives generating sparks, the room echoing with the clash of metal on metal. Several minutes into our battle I realize that the room has gone quiet and the other tributes have formed a circle around us, watching in awe as Pepper drives her weapons towards me. Both of us grunt with the effort of fending each other off, each of us quickly being drained of energy.

Finally, simultaneously, we each disarm each other of one knife. They were locked together in the hilt of her dagger, and a twist from her wrist had sent the two of them flying several feet away from us. She surprises me by whipping her other dagger away from her, nearly skewering one of the tributes from 10, and launching herself at me. She wrestles my knife from my hand, lashing at me with her teeth and a surprisingly firm grip. I realize that her struggling last night had only been half-hearted, and a quick knee to my stomach causes her to win the fight.

I back away from her, our eyes locked. A slight quirk of her eyebrows is the only warning I get before she hurls the knife at me. It occurs to me that she intends for me to duck the knife whirling towards me, but I can't act quickly enough, so instead I pluck it out of the air by the blade and wing it back towards her. It is a trick that Jareth and I practiced together. I have many scars and years of experience concerning this act of entertainment, and I can see the surprise in everyone's face.

Almost immediately after I release the blade, I regret it. Pepper doesn't have any form of warning that I would be sending the knife back at her, but she has sense enough not to move. Even though we have only known each other for a short time, I believe that her trust in me is strong—she has to know that I wouldn't be able to hurt her.

In any case, her eyes narrow on the knife and it gently ruffles her hair a mere three centimeters from the side of her face before sticking solidly in the wall.

The noise in the room is nonexistent. For the first time in my life I truly experienced the expression "you could hear a pin drop." I can hear the blood rushing in my ears and I can feel the adrenalin slowly ebbing away. Pepper stares at me for a long time as I straighten up. Her eyes are wide and she is breathing hard; her expression gives away nothing, and I fear that I have scared her. I give her a very small smile, and the tension in the room is broken.

The noise is suddenly deafening, and I am swarmed by tributes and instructors alike. I my eyes stay locked with Pepper's as the distance between us becomes a loud sea of people. Right before my attention is diverted, I mouth to her "I win."

"Oh my gosh, did you see that last move?"

"She was so amazing!"

"One of them will win!"

"Echo, you're an idiot!" The last exclamation comes from Haven. She is suddenly in front of me, her hands on my shoulders and her face red. "What were you thinking? You could have killed each other!" I grin widely at her, feeling the rush of triumph.

"Hey!" I yelp in surprise as I'm pulled away from everyone and roughly looked over by several trainers. They pull at my clothes and ask a million questions on if I am feeling pain or if I am hurt. Of course I answer no to each one. It was not a malicious fight. Violent, maybe, but not malicious.

Finally they release me and I fight my way to Pepper, smiling at the "that was so cool!"s and the "where did you learn to do that?"s. She is also being manhandled by the trainers but she fights them off.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side," she says to me, gently resting her hand on my lower back.

"I should say the same," I tell her, cocking my head to one side, wondering why she won't look at me. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" She meets my eyes then, and smiles softly; I realize that her face is kind of pale and I can feel the crease deepen in my forehead.

"No. Just almost gave me a heart attack." We laugh together and I relax a bit, slinging my arm over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry…I didn't really think about the repercussions of that last move…."

"I should say not. Where did you even learn that?"

"My brother. Nearly cut my fingers off lots of times." She smiles up at me again, a little bit of color returning to her cheeks.

"I guess I have to admit that it was very impressive."

"I think you should also admit that I win." She bumps her hip into me and her eyes narrow defiantly.

"Never." We laugh again and arrive next to Haven and Cider who are glaring disapprovingly. Their stance—arms crossed, foots practically tapping, anger in their faces—reminds me of my mother when she is crazy angry with me or my brother. The memories make me laugh harder.

"I think it's time for lunch," Haven says coldly. Haven takes my arm and marches me forward, Pepper and Cider following.

Haven remains stony towards me for the rest of the day. Pepper kisses me goodnight, and Haven slams the door to her room right before we go to bed. I decide that perhaps the bit of fame and the knowledge that I can defend myself is worth her anger. Even so, I fall asleep with a knot in my stomach.

**`ΣΔ`**

The next morning is rather uneventful. Haven still refuses to talk to me. She fumes over her fruited oatmeal and shoots snide comments at me until I can't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry, okay? I don't understand why you're so upset." Her brown eyes are hard when she looks at me.

"The only advantage we have is knowing what the nature of the Games really is, Echo. That little stunt you pulled yesterday was foolish and stupid. Who knows how many of the others have figured out what's going on! You know, and maybe you are prepared for tomorrow, but I'm not! I don't have the skills or the state of mind to kill and defend myself, and you've put the situation on a precarious point. I just am angry, alright? I'm scared and I'm angry, and right now I don't like looking at you."

I pick at my food dejectedly, muttering another apology and stewing in my own anger. It had only been practice. It wasn't as if I had been trying to attract attention. I figure that she is overreacting and needs to take a chill pill, but I refrain from telling her so.

The silence is deafening as our spoons scrape our bowls and I slurp my coffee. When I can't take the quiet any longer I shove my bowl forward and stalk out of the room. With every second that Haven is still upset, it makes me even angrier. Who is she, to act this way?

Without really thinking about what I am doing, I take the elevator down and stew by myself in the lobby. Today is the last day before the Games.

I look around, perhaps for the first time. The room is painted a serene color of blue, separated tastefully by mosaic murals of colored glass and mirrors. It reminds me of the people in the Capital: random and exuberant. Also, for the first time, I think that the appearance of the Capitolians may possibly be the reason that they are so care-free. Dressing the part may make them believe that there is nothing better than the "right now." Although I dislike the Capital, and it's people, and the false belief that there is nothing outside the Capital, I feel a slight connection to the people, and hate them a little less.

While lost in my thoughts, the room has filled with the rest of the tributes. Several of them crowd around me, including the little boy, Madeira, from 10. I smile softly at him and he grins back. He is one of the twelve-year-olds.

"Hi," he says shyly, looking down at his shoes. "You were really awesome yesterday," he continues. "I wish I could do something like that."

"Lots of practice," I tell him, reaching out awkwardly to touch his shoulder. "All it takes is a little practice." He smiles wider at me and then scampers off to join the other tribute from his district, a tall girl with thick brown hair and giant brown eyes.

Haven appears moments later, her whole manner rigid. I decide that arguing with her is not on the top of my list of things to do, so I ignore her, just as she ignores me.

The stern woman, who I still have yet to learn the name of, who gives us our morning announcements arrives at the front of the room, right in front of the doors to the training center.

"Good morning," she says, her monotone voice traveling coldly to our ears. "Today you will have twenty minutes to warm up. You will then retire to the banquet hall, and each of you will be called for your allotted time with the judges. When everyone is finished, you will have an early dinner, and then you will be transported to the location of the Games.

"You will move quickly and maturely throughout the rest of the day to ensure that everything runs smoothly. Are there any questions?"

A hand shoots up just to my left. It's the little boy from 10.

"I thought that the Games were being held here?"

"No. A location has been set aside for the Games."

"And what are we supposed to do, exactly?" Madeira's district partner stands defiantly with her arms crossed over her chest and the deadliest look I have ever seen on her face. "No one has told us anything about these damn Games except what you told us two days ago. What exactly are we doing?"

I can tell that the girl has crossed a line, for the stern woman narrows her eyes dangerously before replying.

"The terms of the Games will not be given. It is up to the participants to realize what the objective is and how to reach it."

"That's complete bullshit." I'm surprised to hear Haven's voice. She is glaring angrily at the woman and I realize why she has refrained from asking questions beforehand. "No other competitors go into the competition without knowing what the objective is and how to get it. Don't tell me that you can't tell us what the hell is going on!"

We are only met with the stony glare of the woman who turns abruptly and leaves us in the tense silence. I raise an eyebrow at Haven who gives me an exasperated look back at me. Today was not going to be fun.

Warm up is limited. All of the stations except the weapons have been removed from the training room, and soon there are twenty-four children swinging swords, knives, axes, and a number of other dangerous weapons.

I practice with a set of throwing knives, robin-hooding a pair of them, and I take a few laps around the gym. With five minutes left to spare, I scout out my competition.

The two tributes from 1 seem relatively harmless, along with ones from 11 and 12. The six of them are awkward with their handling of the arms, and by each of their expressions I determine that they have been uninformed on the use of most weapons.

My biggest worry is the tributes from 2. Canto Strike is a large, toned boy of fourteen or fifteen. Even though he is young, he is over six feet tall, and is as strong as an ox. I watch him for several minutes wielding a five-foot claymore sword, and my anxiety grows. He will be a great enemy.

His district mate is just as lethal. She is fifteen and is tall for her age as well. She is strong and determined, practicing with a foreign weapon that I have never seen. It is a long chain with a scary-looking knife on each end. She practices with the weapon on a practice dummy, easily decapitating it when I walk past. My heart beats rapidly in my throat as I quickly move on.

Yes, the tributes from 2 will be a big problem.

Electra and Shock are a tag team of lethality, sparring with each other in quick, deft movements. Only, instead of sparring against each other, it's as if they are fighting as one, each anticipating the move of the other and acting in unison. I fear them, just as well.

Madeira and his district partner, who I learn is named Syrah, are rather dangerous. They both can use a lasso with amazing accuracy, but the both of them seem down to earth, and I feel that the actual killing will be difficult for them.

The tributes from 9 are tied with 2. Their district focuses on hunting, a kind of mix between ten and 11. I am not sure why we have this district, but it will prove difficult to go up against them. The girl, Carrick, can shoot a crossbow and hit within millimeters of her intended target. And the boy, Mhikele, can do nasty things with a dart gun and a knife. Out of the two districts, I fear 9 the most, if only because they are skillful hunters; even so, district 2 takes the award for ruthlessness. I never see either of them smile, but I saw the gleam of pleasure in the girl's eyes when she beheaded the dummy.

Neither 8 nor 6 show any threatening abilities, but they are not weak or unskilled. The twelve-year-old from 8 is swift on her feet and fierce in her attitude, but she is quiet and scared. The tributes from 6 are younger, and they seem like they have been brought up on the higher side of society. Despite their lack of agility and strength, I realize that they are from the district of innovation, so I do not put them out of the game too quickly. What they lack in physical ability they make up for in creativity. I feel that any traps laid by those two will be a nightmare.

I am just settling down after my second turn around the gym when a loud siren goes off, supplying the obvious "your time is up."

We all file into the banquet hall, and I quickly find a chair and drape myself over it. It is going to be an extremely long day of doing nothing.

My time comes more quickly than I expect. Perhaps it was because I was distracted by the Oakame twins, but in any case, my name is suddenly being announced.

"Good luck," Pepper says to me cheerily. I smile back, but my stomach is writhing with butterflies. I look to Haven, hoping for some form of encouragement, but she is still angry with me and pointedly looks away.

I take a deep breath and follow the announcer out into the gym. My footsteps echo off the walls and it makes me nervous for some reason. The judges sit at a table on one side of the room. There are at least ten of them, each dressed in gaudy Capital clothes, and not one of them looks up from their lunch of…whatever they are eating.

I begin by tossing knives, each of which hit the center of the eight targets set up around the room. With my last two knives, I robin-hood two of the knives already embedded in the targets. I glance at the judges and see that I have interested a few, but none of them are writing anything down or talking about it.

With my knife throwing done, I search around for another weapon, and I pick up a sword, slashing violently at the dummies that litter the room. I feel extremely foolish as I "practice." It is awkward and cumbersome, not really showing my true skill, for there is no danger.

I have a couple of minutes left after the sword work, and I take up a silver trident. Hefting the thing, I throw it with all my might at one of the remaining dummies. It lands neatly with the middle spire right through the heart. To be honest, I am pleased. I had figured my best bet would be throwing knives, and it had not occurred to me yesterday that, since I was a fisherman, I throw spears all the time. My long-range ability just got stronger; not to mention, with both a trident and a set of knives, I can fight with a wide range, and also hand-to-hand, if necessary.

Soon, though, my time is up and I awkwardly leave the room. Again, none of the Capitolians look at me as I leave, and my annoyance with the finicky ways of the Capital grows.

**`ΣΔ`**

* * *

**Another part, as promised! Again, the cut off is kind of weird here, so, when I get home from dress shopping, I'll post "chapter" 10. I hope you are enjoying the Capital Games, and the Games FINALLY start next chapter. Whoo!**


	10. Make Our Own

Twenty minutes later, Haven joins me, looking scared and exhausted. She leans heavily against me as I escort her to the dinner table on floor 4.

"Are you okay?" I ask her, worried, for she is pale and weak-kneed.

"No."

"What's wrong?" I help her into a chair and she looks at me sadly.

"I did terrible."

"No you didn't. No way you could have."

"But I did! I couldn't hit a target worth anything and I tripped myself with that damn pole."

"I'm sure it doesn't matter. Remember what that nasty lady said the first day? The judges have no say in what really goes down in the Games, alright? So, relax. Everything will be okay." She meets my eyes steadily after several moments, grabbing my arm before I can move away.

"I'm sorry, Echo," she says quietly. "None of this is your fault. I'm sorry." I gently extricate myself from her grip and then I tenderly squeezed her hands.

"Listen, alright? None of this is your fault, either. And you were right. We have to keep our knowledge to ourselves, because I don't want to die, and I know that you don't want to die. We'll be okay, Haven. As soon as the Games start, we'll go off and we'll defend ourselves, and survive to the last two, okay? They can't make us kill each other; we'll force them to have two victors. We'll be okay, I promise."

She pulls me down into an embrace—silent, hot tears splattering on my shirt. I hug her tightly, not having any other idea of how to comfort her. The Capital's Game is going to be a mess, and I worry that it will break us all, in the end.

Haven pushes me away after several minutes, claiming that she can't breathe, but I understand that she is embarrassed. I smile softly at her and kiss the crown of her head before settling into my own chair.

We eat like kings, even though neither of us has an appetite. Delicacies from home lace the table, along with hardy Capital dishes, and several foreign ones from other districts. I stray away from the Capital's dishes; for, although they taste good, they make my stomach ache with the thought of what it cost us for them to have their perfect foods. Even the District 4 dishes don't taste perfect. They should taste like salt, seaweed, fish, and _home_. But instead they are perfectly in balance on salt and flavor. Home isn't perfect, and perfect isn't home.

I nearly throw up before the meal is over, but I somehow know that, once the Games begin, there won't be a lot of eating—if at all—and so I force myself to eat until I can't anymore. This may be the last time for me, and Haven. I can see her battling the same feelings, but we both go until our stomachs won't hold another bite.

We sit silently for an hour and watch the sun set outside of the solid wall of glass. I work on trying to come up with at least one more phrase of encouragement for Haven, but I come up with nothing. Not to mention, I begin to feel like the sooner I can distance myself from her, and the rest of the tributes, the better my chances of not being the one to have to kill someone. My chest constricts with the realization that I would be pushing away a good friend—for that is what Haven has become. As I look at her, I know that it will be the best thing for the both of us; but when her eyes meet mine I know that I cannot leave her. She is not much younger than me, but she is so much more vulnerable. Even though she has an obvious problem of grudge-holding, she is sweet and intelligent, and a very valuable asset to the District 4 team.

I choose to stay with her not because I need her, but because she needs me. She is strong-willed, witty, smart, but she is too kind, and she won't survive a minute after the rest of the tributes finally figure out what is going on.

I try to convince myself to abandon my protective feelings over her. I really don't know her. At all. I can work swiftly and proficiently by myself, plus I _really_ don't want to have to kill her. Going back home with her blood on my hands would be a nightmare….

I have just decided that she can survive by herself—my mouth open, the beginning of my comment boiling in my throat—when I am interrupted, and any chance of severing the preordained alliance is gone.

I expect Delia, but instead it is Larcin and Haven's stylist, Tarla, that come to collect us. I glance at Haven once more, deciding that if she is looking back, I'll stay with her as long as possible; if she is looking away, so long, farewell, good luck, _please_ don't let me cross her path….

My blue eyes crash with her caramel ones and a warmth spreads through my body. _Okay, Echo_, I tell myself. _You've got this one constant in your pocket. The rest is just camping_. And then I smile ruefully to myself, because camping doesn't involve murdering your friends.

Haven and I rise simultaneously, linking hands and following our stylists to the elevators and into the lobby of the training building.

"You each have your own hovercraft," Larcin says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me away from Haven. "You won't see each other until the Games start tomorrow morning." For a moment I am panicked, just because I know that Haven deals with stress through fear.

"One moment, Larcin," I tell him, slipping from his grasp and pulling Haven into my arms. In the past several days, Haven has become somewhat of an anchor for me. I didn't need her to survive, but it sure will be a better experience for my sanity if she is there.

"Listen to me," I whisper in her ear as she holds me tightly. "Look for me, okay? I don't know what to expect, but we'll make through this. Just remember to breathe, and eat a big breakfast, understand?" She nods slowly. "I'll take care of you. I promise. I'll see you in the morning." She pulls away then and runs off to meet Tarla, never looking back. I watch her wipe her hands across her face before I turn back to Larcin.

"Sorry. I'm just…worried for her," I mutter and march, tall and proud, to the hovercraft designated for Echo Delta.

**`ΣΔ`**

We land several hours later. To my relief I manage to get a nap along the way, and I feel rested and energetic.

"Tonight you will stay in your launch room, and tomorrow I will come in the morning and prep you for the Games." Larcin looks at me sadly, his hand resting comfortingly on arm. "I am sorry that I cannot give you any more than my friendship."

"You didn't find any secrets?" I ask, defeated. I had been counting on something—anything. Mostly, I am counting on him to tell me Haven is wrong.

"Time," he whispers back, his eyes flitting about the room. I realize that we are probably being recorded, and I regret asking. "Tomorrow," he repeats, quieter still, then he opens the door to my launch room and leaves me by myself.

I sigh and look around, closing the door behind me. To my surprise and horror I hear a very audible, very final hydraulic hiss and snap as the metal door is locked in place. I suppose that I will not be leaving any time soon.

My sense of helplessness increases as I take in the room. A large, three-foot-in-diameter silver metal plate commands attention in the very center of the room. It is surrounded by crimson carpet and I feel like throwing up, for it all reminds me of blood. A futon sits pressed against a wall, and several plush chairs pepper the room. What they are for, I can't imagine. The only other person that will be joining me is Larcin; I cannot fathom why we will need four extra chairs, but I shrug it off and decide that I will not worry about it.

Tonight is about me, and relaxing, and not thinking about the Games. I force myself to lie down on the futon and close my eyes. I know that I will need as much rest as possible, and the short nap that I took on the ride here is not going to be enough. I concentrate for a long time on breathing and slowing down my heart rate.

Ba-boom-ba-boom-ba-boom.

_Breathe, Echo. You're fine. Just, breathe…._

Ba-boooom-baa-booooom-baaaa-booooooom.

_Think of home. Think of swimming in the ocean, of being free..._

Boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom-boooom.

It occurs to me, just as I am beginning to drift off, that I never learned my score. But instead of dwelling on it, I am sung to sleep by my own heart beat.

**`ΣΔ`**

"Echo, wake up."

I jerk awake, having been dreaming of unknown monsters and murdering children in their sleep.

Through bleary eyes I finally focus on Larcin. He has a tray of food in his hands and he gently sets in on my lap.

"We've only got an hour. I suggest you eat quickly and get ready. I have a pocket full of secrets."

With no farther encouragement, I scarf down as much food as my stomach can take, downing a tall glass of orange juice and a couple of supplement pills that Larcin said could keep me going for several hours longer than normal.

"Now listen," he says quietly, coming forward and strapping a small Velcro bracelet around my ankle. "This is just a tracking device," he says quickly at the look on my face. "They want to keep track of everyone in the arena."

"Anyway," he continues, checking his watch before meeting my eyes again. "You were right about the Games. I couldn't find out anything about the arena, but you are expected to survive and pick each other off. The last one alive will win. I don't know if you will have to make your own weapons, or if they will be provided. I assume that food will not be provided. I don't know anything about the biome or anything, but I know you'll be outside.

"My advice is limited to generalities," he carries on, pacing the room anxiously. "Stay away from everyone if you can, or at least as long as possible. If there are weapons, get a good supply and then leave the rest. Start with small things, knives and light objects, things that are easy to carry and not cumbersome. If there aren't any, I suggest you make one as soon as possible. You've made spears before?" The question is shot at me hurriedly and I nod quickly in surprise. "Good. Pick up a rock and make one as soon as you can.

"If you can keep this knowledge to yourself, do it. The less the rest of them know, the more time you have to get away from them and create some kind of defense for yourself. As soon as you are away from everyone else, find a source of water, create a shelter, and stay there for as long as possible. The more of a stronghold you have, the better your chances of survival.

"With the way that everyone was talking about you at dinner the other night, you have no problem defending yourself. Don't get cocky or arrogant. Play it safe and you'll come out victorious." He looks at me again, his eyes calculating.

"This is what they've given me to have you wear." He hands me a package wrapped in brown paper. I unwrap it quickly and start shedding my clothes. The package contains a pair of hardy khaki shorts and a thin t-shirt. The shirt is breathable and comfortable. The ensemble is completed with a strong belt, thick socks, and sturdy boots.

Larcin's face is deep in consideration as he eyes the outfit. "You'll be in the sun a lot."

"I know. We wear stuff like this in 4, when we have to be a little more presentable." Larcin frowns.

"I suspect water, but I don't know, Echo. Unless you're in snow, that shirt is going to be visible from a mile away." I look down at it and agree. The stark white of it is completely unnatural. "Camouflage it." He begins talking faster and faster, his anxiety making me nervous and jittery.

He is in the middle of reminding me for the hundredth time to make a weapon as soon as possible when the room begins to flash red and a loud siren begins going off.

"Shit," Larcin exclaims, coming at me so quickly that I can't even fend him off. He steers me to the silver plate in the middle of the room and yanks my medallion off of my neck.

"Hey!" I yell angrily, reaching for it, but the crazed look in his eyes stops me. He takes a large can of clear gel out of his pocket and shoves my necklace into it, coating it in a thick layer of goop. "What the hell are you doing?" I yell again, staring in dismay as he pulls it out and tosses the necklace back at me. To my surprise, the thick leather cord is still as flexible as normal, and the goop has hardened considerable, like a casing on the necklace.

"Look," Larcin says quickly, forcing me to put it on before continuing. "Break off pieces of that, really small, and suck on it for a few seconds when you need it. The saliva makes it expand. Wounds in warm weather fester quickly. That will pack it and keep it from getting wet. Whatever you do, Echo, don't swallow it." He makes me look him in the eyes as he repeats, "don't swallow it. It will kill you if you do. But it will keep you alive and heal minor wounds in hours. If you get hurt too badly, the whole lot of that will stop the bleeding and keep you held together enough to live several days."

The siren has become an incessant beeping in the background, getting louder and faster as the time comes down for me to fight for my life.

"Good luck," Larcin finally says, backing away several steps.

"Thanks," I say back, not sure how I feel about how far Larcin has stuck his neck out for me. "And Larcin," I say quickly as a large, clear tube begins to lower around me. "Wish your family well for me." He bows his head and slowly disappears as I am slowly raised on the plate.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm down my fluttering heart, just as my head breaks the surface of the arena.

My first thought is _oh my God_. The first of the Capitol's Games were going to be a nightmare. Survival was going to be hard in itself, not to mention dodging murderous children.

A glance around me shows that everyone else is just as surprised as I am. Pepper and Cider are watching me to my left, and everyone else is standing stock still, completely in shock and uncertainty.

A voice suddenly emanates from nowhere, like an announcer in a stadium.

"Hello, tributes of Panem! Welcome to the first annual Hunger Games! Good luck to you all, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

I feel anger fill my chest. What the hell? To my right, Haven is in outrage.

"What the hell!" She yells angrily. "What are we supposed to do?" I see several other tributes nod in agreement, looking in wonder at their surroundings. I think of the two twelve-year-olds, Madeira and Coir, from 8, and wonder how they are expected to survive in this environment.

Haven turns to me, throwing her arms out exasperatedly. "They aren't giving us any rules, Echo. What are we supposed to do?" I shrug once.

"Make up our own, I guess," I tell her before diving into the murky water.

* * *

**Gah! Finally, the Games have begun! What will be in store for Echo and his friends? Will anyone die in the later-feared bloodbath? And what exactly is the arena like for the first annual Hunger Games?**


	11. Water

**Forgive me for the delay-it's been a busy couple of weeks.**

* * *

I swim forward with swift, powerful strokes. A hundred yards away from my starting position is a small island, a large, shining, golden horn nestled in the middle of it. It doesn't take much effort for me to get there, and I am already fifty meters ahead of Haven. The rest of the tributes are still looking around in confusion, some watching me like I'm crazy.

For the moment, I ignore them all and pull myself onto the island. The golden horn holds a multitude of items. Boxes and crates of nonperishables and fruit. Giant backpacks are stacked towards the back, and the rest of the horn's gaping mouth is a host to a bed of weapons. A silver bow and a sheath of arrows is closest to me, several sets of throwing knives and a large mace sit towards the middle.

I focus on myself for the first few minutes that I am alone. I take up a set of throwing knives and stick them firmly into my belt. Then I take one of the first backpacks I see and begin filling it with fruit and other food, realizing that I will have to forage for anything else that I want. I even throw in a first-aid kit, just in case it's needed. Looking around once more at my choice of weapons, I decide to add a dart gun and a case of darts to my arsenal.

Haven has reached me now, panting slightly. I hand her a pack that I had started for her, and she goes through the cornucopia of items to add to her own survival needs. When she's done with the necessities, I hold out the weapon meant for her: a long pole with two lethally-sharp knives on either end.

"Just don't cut yourself," I warn her, grinning despite myself. She smiles back a small smile, and then we both turn our attention back to the water.

Pepper and Cider are nearly to us. Neither look very happy to be in the water, and Cider seems to have trouble staying afloat.

"Should we wait for them?" Haven announces my concern, and I do a quick calculation in my head.

"If we leave now, we'll be forfeiting an alliance. And we can use their medicinal skills. But we don't need them." It hurts me to say this, for I believe that my feelings for Pepper are sincere.

"It's too late now," she sighs as the tributes from 5 pull themselves out of the water.

"Help them hurry. We need to move quickly." Fletch and Aralia are lowering themselves into the water, and the other tributes seem to have finally noticed that there is something going on at the little island.

While Haven helps Pepper and Cider, I survey our surroundings. To my back is the estuary, complete with brackish water and twenty of the twenty-four tributes. To my left and right are miles of marshland. Islands, just like the one holding the stockpile of survival gear, dot the horizon, but I know that it is dangerous waters there. Quicksand is attracted to marsh islands, and an abundance of 12-foot drop-offs originate there. Not to mention, the seaweed beds house dozens of poisonous snakes, and several flesh-eating species of fish.

Straight ahead, past another 100 yards of water, is an expansive jungle. Mangrove trees line the estuary side, and the rest is thick foliage. Snakes abound there, along with large predators. I know because this is exactly like District 4's most-dangerous areas. I dislike everything about where we are meant to survive. Everything will be a battle.

"What's the verdict?" Haven says, coming to stand by me. "Pepper and Cider are nearly done. Fletch and Aralia, and the rest are on their way."

"I know." I tell her. I sigh, then continue. "We have two choices: the safest, or the least-populated." Haven is quick to calculate.

"Let's set with the safest first. Who knows how deep that jungle is? It could just dump us out into another half of the estuary, or it could be just as deep as it seems. We'll try and stay close to the shoreline, we can try for those islands if we need to." She glances over her shoulder and shrugs. "By the looks of it, everyone else will be sticking to the mainland."

I glance behind us and flinch as somewhere a cannon shoots off, accompanied by a distressed shriek.

"Durum! Durum!" The redhead from 11 screams, thrashing around in the water. "Stop it! This isn't funny!" I feel bad for her, for the body suddenly breaches the water. He is dead, floating face down several feet from her. I suspect he has drowned.

"Is this really happening?" Haven looks on in horror. "My God, Echo. Let's go."

Pepper and Cider join us. Pepper is pale, her face completely devoid of color.

"Let's go. Straight ahead," I instruct, the four of us entering the water just as Fletch, Aralia, and several other tributes finally make land. We go quickly, but it soon becomes clear that this water is much deeper than what it was coming to the first island. Before, I could almost touch the bottom; now, there is no sign of the bottom. Pepper struggles to stay above water, and eventually I take her pack from her, keeping a hand on her arm to make sure she stays above water. Even though I am a strong swimmer, the packs weigh me down, and we make slow progress. Cider comes back for us after he and Haven reach the mainland, relieving me of a pack and pulling Pepper onto the two feet of beach.

She looks scared and exhausted when I hand her bag back to her. I know this isn't good. We can't be logged down in the first ten minutes.

"Hey," I tell Pepper, gently lifting her chin so she has to meet my eyes. "Let's go, okay? Don't quit now." She nods tiredly, and I take her hand, squeezing it encouragingly. Haven's brow if furrowed and she gently links hands with Cider before looking to me, nodding once. I take a deep breath, and then lead our group forward.

The atmosphere under the canopy of trees is stifling. The humidity is thick, completely saturated and I instantly find it hard to breathe. The air smells of flowers and decay. It almost makes me sick. Visibility is minimal, but bright shards of sunlight break through the leaves and softly light the jungle.

We move quickly, each of us making as little noise as possible, attempting to keep our tracks from being followed. Pepper strides lithely beside me, only slowing to allow me to help her over fallen logs. Haven and Cider follow closely behind us.

After several hours in the miserable humidity, we have to stop. Each of us had made sure to include a full water bottle in our packs, but they are becoming dangerously low, and we need to come up with a game plan.

Pepper is sitting on the ground, draining the rest of her bottle, and I can see that the hike has taken a toll on her. Haven rests beside her, head tilted back, looking exhausted. Cider lounges nearby.

Personally, I feel disgusting. My shirt clings to my skin, giving me the feeling of suffocation. As we sit and rest, I strip off my shirt, taking one of my razor-sharp knives and cutting off the sleeves and down the seams on the sides. The relief from the heat is instant. If I didn't know about the sun, I would have ditched it, but I do know about the sun, so instead I keep it. Besides, it could be used as bandages if necessary.

As the four of us rest, I think about what Larcin told me. First thing was to find water. The second was to make a shelter. The third was to defend it. The fourth: stay alive.

"Well," I say, taking a long sip from my canteen, "first thing's first: water. We have to find water." I look up at the boughs of the trees and then back from the way we had come. I had lead them inland, but slightly parallel to the beach; even so, the estuary was several hours away. "One of you will have to climb up and have a look around." I receive two are-you-insane looks from the girls. I glare right back at them. "Unless you'd like to die from dehydration…."

"Why don't you do it?" Haven shoots at me, the filthiest look I have ever seen on her face.

"Because I can't go as high as we need to go. I'll break the branches."

"Well, how about you figure out a way to do it. I won't do it, Echo." Haven climbs to her feet and stalks away, crashing through the underbrush. I give Cider a pleading look and he takes off after her. I sigh to myself, concerned about her attitude. Now wasn't the time to go storming off all by herself.

I saunter up to Pepper and kneel down beside her. Her eyes are tired, her hair in sweat-soaked strings around her face.

"How are you doing?" I ask her softly, reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek. I know her answer before she even speaks.

"I'm tired," she whispers, gently threading our fingers together. "And scared…and hot."

"I know," I murmur back, lowering myself to sit beside her. "I know how to help it, as soon as we find water. I promise." She nods once, leaning her head against my shoulder.

"How much farther, Echo?"

"I don't know. It depends on how close a source of water is."

"I'll do it, you know." I look down at her, an eyebrow raised. Her big green eyes are sincere when she repeats, "I'll climb the tree. I do it at home."

"Only if you're sure. Haven will do it, if I whine enough." Pepper laughs quietly, shaking her head.

"Oh, don't do that to her. I'll do it." She climbs to her feet and offers me a hand. Together we stand surveying the trees, looking for the tallest one. Finally we find it, a stand of cypress trees that tower into the air.

"You're sure about this, Pepper? I would do it if I could."

"No, I know. Just keep talking to me, okay?"

"Yes ma'am." She rolls her eyes, but then sidles up to me slowly and rather seductively, her eyes locked on mine. When she reaches me, she leans close—so close that I can feel the heat radiating off her body. Her hands trace down my bare arms, and then she pulls away, a small smile on her beautiful face, two knives locked in her fists.

"Watch my back, babe." She winks and turns to the trees. She gives herself a running start and quickly climbs up the cypress trees.

"So Pepper," I call after a few minutes, only her legs visible now. "What do you do in District 5? I mean, I know you're the medicine district and all, but what exactly does that mean?"

"Well," her answer is muffled, concentrated. "My dad owns an apothecary there, for our part of the district, so I do it a little more selectively than others, but District 5 mainly forages. We're kind of like District 11, in the sense that we farm; except we plant plants with medicinal qualities. We have a trackerjacker facility a couple of miles from my house. I'm not sure what they do with them…but people who work there die all the time. I'm lucky neither me nor my mom got drafted to work there." I can hear her whacking at the trees with my knives, using them to help her climb.

"Sounds terrible!"

"It is. I had a friend who's brother worked there. He got caught in an attack a couple of months ago…."

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, picturing how awful it must have been. I once was stung and spent hours having hallucinations.

"Yeah, well, there isn't much we can do about it now." The thwacking sounds of the knives cease and I wait a moment to hear Pepper's final verdict. "Well, Echo, there's good news and there's bad news. Which would you prefer first?"

"Um," I say, not liking the anxious sound of her voice. But then I see her, slowly descending the tree, constantly looking back into the sparse foliage. She drops to the ground with several feet to spare, landing with a suppressed oomph. I help her to her feet and am surprised when she spits a frothy red foam.

"Bit my tongue," she says in explanation, staring up at the trees, a crease between her brows. "You didn't answer. Good news or bad news?"

"How about good?"

"Hmm, good news is there's water about three quarters of a mile that-a-way." She points in a northern direction. She circles under the trees, attempting to keep something in sight. I search with her, though I see nothing.

"And the bad news?"

"Bad news is we're being stalked."

"Stalked by what, exactly?"

"I'm not really sure. I'm not sure how many there are either, but they growled at me. And they're green; kind of strange, don't you think?"

"Well, I can't say anything, because I have no idea what you are talking about."

"They're there, Echo," she says, suddenly going stiff beside me and clutching at my arm. "Or rather, here, you know?" I look around wildly for what she is looking at, and then I see it. It stands only ten yards away from us, its head cocked to the side, hideous yellow teeth bared and a high-pitched hissing sound emanating from its taught throat. It can't be bigger than a chicken, and it has green, leathery skin, streaked in yellow that matches the flora of the trees. A strong tail moves back and forth behind it, muscular hind legs supporting the little body and its scrawny forelegs. A strange, vibrating note escapes the creatures mouth, and to my horror several more of its friends appear around us.

"What the _hell_ are they?" I demand. Several of the creatures have ventured forward, clacking their teeth at each other, as if formulating an attack plan.

Pepper's head is cocked to one side too, contemplating. "I don't know what they are, Echo, but I suggest that we find Cider and Haven and get the hell out of here." I nod quickly.

"I agree, let's go." Pepper takes my hand and we tear off into the jungle. I wince as I hear the little lizard monsters screaming after us. "Faster," I advise, full-out running now, heedless to the noise I am making by crashing through the underbrush.

We run into Haven and Cider several hundred yards from the stand of cypress trees.

"Just run!" Pepper gasps, snagging Cider by his shirt sleeve and dragging him forward.

"What's the deal?" Haven says alarmed, hurrying after us.

"Just a couple of nasty lizards, Hay," I say, attempting to make light of the situation; only, no one laughs.

We run for a long time—long enough to leave me, who runs several miles every morning, gasping for breath. Thankfully, our nasty monster friends are no longer following us, and directly to our left is a gurgling little stream.

We drag ourselves to the brook and both Haven and I dunk our faces in the cool water. Pepper and Cider look at us in horror and I am suddenly yanked away from the brook.

"What are you doing?" Pepper nearly yells, looking at me as if she would suck all the water out of my stomach if she could. "You didn't even purify it!"

"You don't have to," I say, gently extracting myself from her steely grip. "Biomes like this naturally purify the water. Like a filter." Pepper still looks incredulous as I dip my hands in the water for another sip. She chokes on a protest, but doesn't say anything. Both her and Cider fill up all of our canteens and drop several droplets of iodine into each one.

"I don't know how you live through every day," Pepper says scathingly as she lounges in the shade of a tree.

"Oh, and why's that?"

"Well, first, you go and dive head first into water that you know nothing about." Wrong, I think. "Then you go and drink a bunch of water that you have no idea if it is safe to drink!" Wrong again. "And now you're drenching yourself in mud. How do you live in your filth?"

I laugh, taking another handful of mud and smearing it over my bare skin, before rubbing my starch-white shirt in gray clay just above the water line.

"First, love, I'm a guy," I say matter-of-factly. I spread more of the mud and clay over my face, sighing in relief as it blocks the heat of the sun. "Second, it feels amazing." I scoop up more mud and make my way over to her. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and tries to back away from me, but Cider blocks her path and she is forced to stand still. I position myself in front of her and daub a thick coat of gray-brown mud over the pink skin of her nose and cheeks. She closes her eyes in pleasure, and meets my eyes steadily in the next moment. "Third," I say lightly, painting a heart between her clavicles, "you should trust me." She stays silent but follows me back to the stream where Haven has already covered herself in the sun-block mud. Pepper hesitates only once more, and then she and Cider allow us to camouflage their skin from more predators and the unforgiving sun.

* * *

**Soo, loves, the Games have finally begun annnd we have our first death! Mr. Durum Wheton from District 11! Poor boy just couldn't swim...anyway, how would you like it if I tallied up the deaths at the end of each chapter? If you think it would be lame and cheesey and annoying, I definitely won't, but it's whatever you guys would like :).**

**As for our little lizard monster friends, think Jurrassic Park (which I don't own, and the little lizard things are based off of the dinosaurs that attack the little girl in JP2). Butt, I almost made thim into cat/lizard things, like the cat/dog things in Avatar...what do you guys think? Which would be better? I couldn't decide, so I first wrote about the lizards, but it isn't very unique, I'm afraid... **

**Anyway, enough chitchat. Tell me what you think about the tally and the lizard monsters...Reviews would be lovely :)**


	12. Catfight

**Hi, everyone! I hope you all are doing awesome! First, thanks to all of my reviewers :) I'm glad that you are enjoying Echo's story. Second, I just want to tell you that this chapter and the next are my absolute favorites so far, and I hope you like them too :). I'm thinking that I'll try to keep with a weekly update. Are Tuesdays okay with everyone? Hehe, I hope so! Anyway, enjoy Chapter 12: Catfight of Capital Games!**

**Plus, WARNING: rather a lot of swearing this chapter, in case anyone is offended by it.**

* * *

We stay close to the stream, always keeping it in sight or within hearing distance. We resemble something like monsters, completely covered in filth; but I feel it's worth it. If we're going to fight to the death, why not do it in as much comfort as possible?

We walk for several more hours, and I am relieved when the stream curves to the right and continues inland. I don't want to be anywhere near anybody else. I have the feeling that only time will win this thing the Capital calls its Games. Eventually, the rest of the tributes will be aware of the rules and the rewards, and, hopefully, they will pick each other off before I will have to kill anyone myself.

It is not until I can barely see ten yards in front of me that we stop.

"It's time for bed," I say quietly, exhausted.

"Here?" Pepper squeaks. "But it's so dark, and—did you hear that?" She whips her head around and I see Cider give a sheepish smile—he had stepped on a stick.

"I don't know where else you expect us to go," Haven says harshly, leaning her stave up against a tall tree. "Did you think they would give us a nice warm bed to sleep on when they plan on letting us kill each other? I suppose I thought higher of you, but I guess you're nothing more than a little girl come to play nature girl." I can tell this has not been a good development.

"Yes, well, I had expected higher of _you_, thinking you might want to survive to the end, not pitch a fit like a five-year-old and stomp off when some difficult task is presented to you. I had thought that _perhaps_ you would be a fighter, but I suspect killing you off will be the easiest thing that I will have to do."

"Stop," I try to say, but Haven is already snarling back.

"I think you are mistaken, Pepper," she spits the name as if it is acid in her mouth. She takes a threatening step towards Pepper, a deadly look on her face. "I can promise that you do not want to make an enemy of me."

Pepper seems to contemplate for a moment before tackling Haven to the ground. Haven struggles under her, grunting in skillfully-hidden panic, trying to unseat her aggressor. But Pepper keeps her place, pinning Haven's shoulders to the ground with her knees with an extremely lethal glint in her furious eyes. Cider and I exchange a look, both of us frozen in place before everything goes absolutely silent.

Pepper has one of my throwing knives clutched in her hand, holding its razor sharp blade to Haven's throat. Pepper is nearly nose to nose with her, a vicious sneer on her face. In that moment, I don't doubt that she would kill Haven on the spot.

"If you want to live past this night, I suggest that you stay away from me and keep your comments to yourself." Said lowly, dangerously, completely and utterly serious. Haven moves her head twice. Once down, once up. Pepper digs her knees into Haven's shoulders for good measure before rising to her feet, throwing the knife down, and stalking away. The small sob that escapes Haven's throat is the only indication that that knife was merely centimeters from her face. A small sliver of red stripes her neck and I shiver at what almost happened.

I start to go after Pepper but Haven calls my name. I knock my head back at Cider who nods once and disappears into the gloom. I turn back to Haven who is sitting up, smearing the blood on her throat with a quick swipe of her hand.

"Echo," she whispers hurriedly as I squat next to her. "Echo, we can't do this. We can't trust her." I furrow my eyebrows. _No_, _you just can't handle her, _I think. "She'll kill us in our sleep!"

"Haven," I say quietly, brushing her hair out of her face, "we can't just break off after day one. And you can't be so irritable, okay? We're all hot, we're all tired, and we can't be snapping at each other." She glares at me.

"What the hell, Echo! She was going to tear out my throat!"

"I think that was a little overkill, I'll admit, but the digs you made weren't all that necessary either. We're all at fault here, okay?"

"You just want to stay because you think you can get her!" I am angered by her comment and I am tempted to hit her, threaten her to within an inch of her life—mostly because it seems like the only way to get anywhere—but I don't, instead growling in rage at her.

"And you think that surviving out here is going to be easy. Well, let me tell you, sweetheart, we won't get anywhere unless we have an alliance." I stand and leave her crying muttering, "if there aren't witnesses, I may just kill you myself."

Cider comes to my side a couple of minutes later, looking tired but determined.

"Can we do anything for a shelter?" I look around us. Several fallen branches litter the ground and a good amount of foliage can serve as a roof.

"If we work quickly." We both look at the girls. They sit several yards apart, turned directly towards each other, glaring.

"Do you think they'll be okay for a minute?" I shrug.

"Scream if you need us," I holler before turning back to Cider. "I suppose we'll know as soon as we turn our backs." He nods and we set to work. I send Cider to gather up all the large branches he can find and I hunt for baby trees.

We converge ten minutes later, enough material found between the two of us to make at least a lean-to for the night. It only takes us another few minutes to make a shelter.

"You know," I grunt as Cider and I strip a large tree of its bark to use as a door. "It's going to be stifling in there tonight. We'll have to widen it to keep the heat down tomorrow."

"I know. But I'd rather not hear them bitch about it." I nod tersely, sweat pouring down my face and back.

"I'm not sleeping in the middle," I tell him with conviction. "They can kill each other for all I care at the moment."

"No kidding."

We finish our construction and collapse outside it. There is barely enough light to see ten feet in front of me, and my adrenalin sort of spikes through my blood.

I have to admit that night sounds scare me. Not a lot, mind you. I practically live outside at home. But I also know that the wetlands house many nasty predators, including some that I am not familiar with, such as those nasty lizard monsters. If we could get our shelter into the trees, I would feel a million times better. But I suppose that I must wait until the morning.

Cider rises to fetch the girls awhile later and they crawl into the lean-to, slumping to the ground in exhaustion. He circles around to the other side, our unspoken agreement to keep watch. I am surprised when a head appears on my knee and soft fingers hook themselves onto my belt.

Pepper sighs contentedly and I gently stroke her hair. Barely seconds pass before I know she is asleep. A sliver of moonlight slices through the dark, highlighting one of her smudged cheeks. _This girl is beautifu_l, I think to myself. Further down the way under the roof of our shelter, I can just make out the lump that is Haven.

I frown at her, for the first time a feeling of contempt flashing through my vision of her. Back in the training center, she had seemed like a little girl, scared and helpless. In fact, she had reminded me of my niece who was only four. But still, she had seemed just small and child-like, sweet and…innocent.

But now, seeing how she handled Pepper and her childish attitude, it is becoming clear that she is going to be a hazard. To be honest, I dislike knowing that we must be careful about what we say and how closely we can leave Pepper in her vicinity. I don't like knowing that I will have to be the mediator because I am the one they all look to for guidance….

And curse me, for my loyalty, because I can't leave Haven to fend for herself, and I can't bring myself to even entertain the thought of killing her. She is my district partner, and even if I end up hating her guts, it is my duty to keep her alive as long as I am able to…

Right?

I sigh quietly, knotting my fingers in a bed of red silk.

What am I going to do? Who am I kidding, trying to get two people who obviously now despise each other to get along?

No one. That's the answer. I'm not fooling anybody.

And how is it that I can see myself choosing Pepper—a girl I barely know—over Haven, a girl that I have an unspoken responsibility to protect?

I laugh scathingly to myself, suddenly remembering the irony: I barely know Haven either! It is infuriating to me that I have been so easily persuaded to give out my trust. I have to grudgingly admit that I have been kind of a fool and that I have made my first big mistake: I have allowed myself to believe that I can beat the Games by making an alliance and keeping away; out of sight out of mind is my law.

But I am wrong, and I have to think that maybe Haven was right. Maybe I only insist on keeping up this alliance because I have such an attraction to Pepper….Even so, Cider is a good friend, and Pepper is strong and can think on her feet—two powerful assets that will be formidable enemies should we split away from them.

I touch Pepper's face, stroking my fingers over her closed eyelid and her amazingly smooth complexion. I will hate to lose her. She has grown on me, even if I have only known her for a few days. She is sweet and fiery, drop-dead gorgeous, and endearingly intelligent. If she had lived in District 4 I would have proposed to her by now.

But I have to force myself to remember that we aren't in District 4. We are no longer just two teenagers unaware of the concerns of Panem and uncaring for the demands of life, but instead we are children forced into adulthood at the blow of a trumpet, left to survive with minimal help. We are just gladiators, put in a cage, forced to draw blood, to kill, all for someone else's entertainment.

It will be better for her, for my Pepper, if I just leave her. To take myself out of the equation is to decrease the chance that I will have to be the one to kill her. To remove myself from our alliance, I improve her chance of surviving. That's the least I can give her, for what I am going to do. To give her a second chance at life by leaving her…I figure that the trade off is rather spectacular. She will have to accept it, because I won't give her any other choice.

I kiss my fingers and gently touch her lips. A last tribute of goodbye to the last woman who will ever hold my heart.

**`ΣΔ`**

* * *

**Soooo...don't hate me, mmk? I really want to tell you that it will all be okay, butttt, I _really_ don't want to give anything away. So, forgive me for the next week. But, perhaps something to hold you over, I have theses ideas of my characters, and I've made some character banners. If you'd like to see them, let me know. Eventually, when homework isn't kicking my butt, I'll put the links on my profile. But until then, drop a review, they make me write better :).**

** ED9**


	13. Threats and Screams

"What did you say to him, damn it!"

"I've no idea what you're talking about!"

"Cider!"

"Haven, he hasn't—"

"Don't touch me! What did you say to him, you little tramp!"

"I haven't said a word to him since before I kicked your ass!"

"Why you—"

"STOP!" I haul Haven away from Pepper who looks distressed and frightened and practically throw her across the clearing. "Stop it, the both of you! I haven't gone anywhere! I'm not going anywhere!"

Haven's eyes are filled with betrayal, but I don't feel any remorse. There is no District 4 team anymore. There is me, and there is her. An extremely thin but defined line between us, but it is there. I feel that she understands this now, and that is where the look of hatred she now gives me has come from. I have chosen Pepper over her after all.

I've only been gone for fifteen minutes, retreating to the stream to reapply my sun block and to maybe catch a few fish if I happened to be lucky. I figured that they could last that long; they had all been asleep anyway.

Apparently not.

"Get out of my way, Echo," Haven snarls, fighting against me.

"No," I growl back, shoving her away again. She falls flat on her butt and stares up at me, furious. "I suggest you sit there and calm the_ fuck _down!" I am yelling again and it takes everything I have to settle my rapidly beating heart.

But I turn to Pepper, softening at the relieved look on her face. She has her hands up in surrender, her beautiful green eyes wide. I look to Cider.

"What the hell is going on here?"

"Well," he begins taking tentative steps towards us, "you were gone when we all woke up, and Haven pitched a fit. Thought it was Pepper's fault or something."

I sigh quietly to myself. Everything is going to be stacked precariously from now on.

"Are you okay?" directed towards Pepper who nods and sinks down into a bed of moss.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?" to Haven who pointedly ignores me. "_Now_, Haven." I force her to her feet and drag her out of earshot.

"Now you listen and you listen closely," I snap angrily when she tries to pull away. "You need to figure out whose side you're on, Haven."

"I'm on our side!" she hisses, but it is not what I meant. She means _my_ side…District 4's side.

"No, Haven—Listen to me, damn it!" She struggles against me until I am forced to pin her to the ground, much in the fashion that Pepper had yesterday.

"You need to figure out whether you're with us or not," I say, dangerous, suddenly of a mind to kill her before things get out of hand. "Do you understand, Haven?" I have to yell to overcome her obnoxious wailing that she has started. "Because if you're not with us, you're with everybody else, and I can just kill you now!"

Her eyes grow wide and she falls silent at my threat. Her body goes limp and large tears pool in her eyes.

"You can't kill me, Echo," she whispers pleadingly. "You won't."

"If you don't stop this bullshit I'll slit your throat right now." She flinches at the hardness of my voice and the meaning behind my words.

"Choose now," I add harshly, reaching to my belt for a knife.

"I choose you," she says rather desperately. "I choose _us_!"

"No," I respond, holding a blade to her throat. "You choose me, Cider, and Pepper, or you die."

**`ΣΔ`**

Not too long later I am washing blood from my knife and hands. A small pile of fish sits on the shore, freshly cleaned and gutted.

I collect my catch and carry it to the small fire that Pepper has created. Her hair is soft and shiny, having rinsed herself in the river. The cover of our trees gives us ample amounts of shade, and our mud block is no longer needed. I feel fresh myself, though rather exposed. Our skin could be seen even in the gloom.

I gently touch her face as I sit beside her and her smile is just so beautiful.

"Hey," she says quietly, and I grin back.

"Hey."

We sit together and I stick our fish into the fire to cook. She moves closer to me and leans against my chest.

We sit for awhile, watching Cider. I put him in charge of Haven, who has been confined to our lean-to for the time being. I fear that I may kill her yet, so I distance myself from her. Besides, Cider is gentle with her, and she needs something different.

After Haven disappears into the lean-to, Cider makes his way over to us, a concerned expression on his face.

"There's something wrong with her," he says quietly, sitting down beside Pepper.

"You mean besides the fact that she's a bipolar psycho?" Pepper asks snidely.

"She isn't," I say softly. "But I agree, Cider."

"She has a fever and keeps getting nastier. I half expect her to bite me if I get too close."

I frown. Rabies isn't common in the everglades area, but I've seen cases like that before.

"She says she wasn't bitten," Cider says as if he was reading my thoughts. Another thought comes to mind and suddenly I am worried.

"Have I been acting strangely?" I ask, and both tributes from District 5 shake their heads.

"No. Why?"

"Well," I say anxiously, spinning our cooking fish, "there's this rare type of bacteria that sometimes cultivates in wetland biomes, and it attacks the same glands and parts of the brain that are affected by rabies. It's easily curable…if you have the medicine…."

"And otherwise?"

"It's degenerative," I answer. "I don't think for a second that it could have affected her as badly as it has so soon—I think most of it is attitude and jealousy—but her eyes don't look right sometimes."

"I know what you mean," Cider whispers. "When she's all snappy there's this almost black sheen that covers her eyes. It makes me nervous. I feel like…she might just explode and attack us all."

"I don't know what to do about it. Unless we can find some medicine, there isn't anything we can do. It would be better if we just put her out of her soon-to-be misery."

"Yes but…I don't know," Pepper sighs, looking at me sadly. "It's a little inhumane, don't you think?"

"Maybe," I say, gently kissing the top of her head. "But it will be even more inhumane if we let her live with this bacteria affecting her brain. Besides, she's already proven a hazard. It would be better if we could just save ourselves the trouble." It occurred to me several minutes into the uncomfortable silence that I was sitting with the best people in the arena to even have a remote chance of fixing her.

"Wait a minute," I say to break the quiet. "You two live in the medicine district. Isn't there anything that you can find to purge her of infection?"

Pepper and Cider exchange a look.

"It may be possible, but we aren't familiar with the plants in this area. If we make any mistakes it can prove fatal to her," Cider answers cautiously.

"Listen," I say. "I don't know her all that well, but in the training center she was completely different. Ever since we stopped the first time, she's been getting worse. I hadn't thought of it before, but it has to be something she ate or drank that's affecting her."

"That or she lied about being bitten." Pepper is staring across the fire. She stands, contemplating. "She needs a once over."

I watch apprehensively as she crosses the clearing with quick strides. I tense while Cider and I wait, listening for the screams I fear will come.

But they don't, and Pepper comes back looking rather upset.

"She lied," was the only thing she says before she continues off into the forest.

"Should we follow her?" I ask. Cider shakes his head.

"She'll be okay. She knows her plants; she wouldn't have walked off if she wasn't confident they grow here as well."

Pepper returns twenty minutes later, a collection of plants in her arms.

"Do you want help?" I ask softly, standing, but the irritated looks she gives me stops me in my tracks.

"No," she snaps, marching past us. She deposits her plants next to our shelter and glares at us. "I need water," she demands and then dismisses us by turning her back.

"What's got her knickers in a twist?" Cider growls, annoyed.

"I don't know," I reply. "I'll be back in awhile." I gather up our water bottles and retreat to the stream.

As I fill them, I can't help but feel I'm being watched. I look around slowly, scanning the foliage. I narrow my eyes, focusing on a small stand of bushes.

_There_!

I didn't imagine it! There _is_ a pair of extremely green eyes with a cat-like iris staring at me.

They blink again as we stare each other down. I don't move, fearing that any sudden motion will invite an attack.

_Boom_!

I flinch and the creature disappears for a moment. But then it is back for a split second before it slinks off in the direction of a scream.

I can't help but think two things: First that I am probably very lucky to be alive. Second, another cannon shot means another death. I wonder what it's from and hope that the rest of the tributes haven't caught on yet.

I finish filling my water bottles and hear two more cannon shots on my trek back to camp. Four down, twenty to go….

When I return to camp, Cider is staring blankly at the fire, and when I reach Pepper, her face is devoid of color. She looks at me in panic, and I gently touch her arm.

"It's okay," I say softly.

"Did you see anything?" I shake my head, deciding that my stalker isn't worth mentioning.

"How is everything going here?"

"Better," Pepper whispers. "She's sleeping right now. I think one of those lizards got her." She peels back a huge green leaf away from Haven's ankle. A gash is there, red and jagged, a putrid yellow liquid practically bubbling on the inside. I nearly gag at the sight of it.

"That is disgusting," I manage to choke out. Pepper nods, reaching into a pile of wild flowers at her side. She takes two of the purple ones—with huge blossoms—and sticks them in her mouth.

"How do you know they're not poisonous?" She gives me a look that says she doesn't and continues chewing. When she finally has mashed them to a pulp she rinses Haven's cut with water and then spits the wad of purple goo onto it. Haven twitches once and then remains still. Pepper swishes her mouth out with water and spits.

"There are flowers similar to those that grow in our wet areas in 5. I guessed that they could be similar in properties, too. They're supposed to help cleanse and draw out infection. Let's hope for Haven's sake that it does." We sit together for a long while, talking and hoping.

Eventually, the flowers do draw out some of the yellow pus, leaving a puckered hole in her ankle.

"Only problem is," Pepper murmurs, washing the wound out again, "that we don't have anything clean. It'll fester if we don't be careful."

Suddenly I am excited.

"I have a way," I say, reaching under my shirt for my token. I crack the shell that has formed around the cord and stick a small marble-sized piece in my mouth, sucking at it.

"What are you doing?" Pepper gasps. I hold up a finger, waiting for it to expand. And it does, rapidly conforming to the inside of my mouth. I pull it out, it now being an opaque, silvery white cloth that will cover Haven's wound no problem. I drape it over the bite, careful to tuck it into the hole, and, to my surprise, it completely adheres to her leg. Water- and air-tight. No infection.

Pepper has climbed to her feet, glaring at me.

"Where did you get that?" She demands stonily. When I only give her a confused look she yanks me up by the collar of my shirt. With an amazing amount of power from someone so small, she shoves me hard against a tree. "Where-did-you-get-that?" She seethes, forcefully separating each word.

"L-Larcin," I stutter; believe it or not, I'm rather afraid of this side of Pepper.

"Who the hell is Larcin?"

"My stylist!"

"My God, Echo," she shouts at me, jerking my medallion off of my neck. She begins breaking pieces off and chucking them away from us.

"Hey!" I yell indignantly, having to wrestle with her to reclaim it.

"Give it back, Echo." Her yelling could not have been sweeter compared to the tone she is using with me.

"Why?"

"Give it!"

"Not until you tell me why!" I hold Pepper off with one hand and my medallion off in the other.

"Do you even know what that was used for? District 5 made it for years, and it _kills_ us! The substances used to make that are so toxic that the chances of you staying alive after fetching them are one in ten!

"That vile stuff keeps people alive when they shouldn't be! That's the only reason they won!

"Now give. It. Here!" Angry tears are welling in her eyes.

"Pepper, I—"

"I don't care what you think! Using that paste is just as traitorous as siding with the Capital." Her eyes are steely and full of hatred.

"Give it to me," she says forcefully through clenched teeth.

We study each other for several long, tense minutes. Finally, I give in, handing over my token and leaving her to destroy it.

We don't talk for the rest of the day, though sometimes I catch her staring. I haven't had the courage—and she not the patience—to get back my heirloom, and so it hangs from her neck instead.

Cider tells Pepper and Haven to search for something to eat in late afternoon, and the two of us set to work on our shelter.

"Tomorrow we need to fortify this," I say, straining against several logs lashed together.

"I agree. Something was stalking us earlier, but Pepper's screaming scared it off, I think."

"That's good. At least it helped in some way."

We finish widening the base in silence. We quickly thatch a roof of wide palm fronds and fallen branches.

At the end, it turns out to be a nice shelter. It is closed on three sides, and one we leave open for ventilation and to keep an eye on anything that thinks it wants to attack us.

We eat a feast of forest greens and Egret. Haven and Pepper had found several on the shoreline, managing to kill a few. It isn't my favorite bird—tastes a little fishy, actually—but it fills my stomach.

When we settle in for the night, Cider volunteers to keep watch.

"Wake me when you need a break," I tell him. He nods and I stretch out on my fourth of the shelter's floor.

Pepper continues to give me the silent treatment, but she kneels down right next to me. I look at her warily, her face bathed in shadows.

As she leans towards me, I half expect her to bite me, but she kisses my forehead instead, her soft hair falling against my cheek. Her fingers brush back my hair before she lies down beside me, pillowing her head on my shoulder and tucking her body into the curve of my own.

I guess that this is probably as much of an apology as I am going to get. I don't much like it, but out here, how can you know if you'll survive until tomorrow? I am helpless to do anything but forgive her, just in case I won't have the chance later.

Sighing in defeat to myself, I wrap my other arm around her, pulling her closer into me.

I bury my face in her hair, kiss the bare skin of her neck, and quickly fall asleep to the sound of her breathing.

* * *

**So, what did you think? Kind of a long chapter. I was going to cut it off right after Echo threatened Haven...but I thought you might kill me, so I didn't. Be happy about it lol.**

**Anwyway, thanks to my two, count 'em TWO, reviewers: _dimitrisgirl18_ and _QueenCobraWing_. If only eveyone would drop a review, and then YOU would be as recognized and loved as my these faithful reviewers. *Sigh* but, I think you just need to click the damn button and leave a review anyway ;) mmk? Hehe, thanks for reading, all. Have a great week! Character banners are on my profile :)**

** ED9**


End file.
